THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  BOY  PATRIOT. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 
'THE  BLUE  FLAG,"  "CHEERILY,  CHEERILY,"  ETC. 


"HE  WILL  BLESS  THEM  THAT  FEAR  THE  LOBD,  BOTH  SMALL  AND 
GEEAT." 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE 

AMERICAN   TRACT   SOCIETY, 

150  NASSAU-STREET,  NEW  YORK. 


THE  character  of  Blair  Kobertson,  the  Fail-port 
boy,  will  not  have  been  sketched  in  vain,  if  it 
prompt  one  young  American  to  such  a  hearty 
serving  of  God  as  will  make  him  a  blessing  to 
our  dear  native  land.  We  have  laid  the  scene  of 
our  story  fifty  years  ago,  but  we  trust  that  its 
lessons  will  be  none  the  less  appropriate  to  the 
present  day. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by  the 
AMERICAS  TRACT  SOCIETY,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court 
of  the  Southern  District  of  the  State  of  New  York. 


TZ4 
A 1 136? 

CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER  I 

Fairport  - 

CHAPTER  II 
The  young  Orator • 


CHAPTER  III. 
The  English  Boy - 26 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Patriot's  Work 36 

CHAPTER  V. 
Blair's  Company 44 

CHAPTER  VI. 
A  Pilot 65 

CHAPTER  VII. 
No! 62 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Storm - 69 

CHAPTER  IX 
A  Reward 74 

CHAPTER  X. 
A  New  Deck - 80 


622789 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
"Mum" 86 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  First  Effort 95 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Temptation 105 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
"Derry  Duck" 113 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  Letter 128 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
AMarvel 134 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  Conflict 144 

CHAPTER  XVIU. 
Wages 152 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Home 160 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Sacred  Joy 170 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Conclusion 174 


THE  BOY  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

FAIBPORT. 

WERE  you  ever  on  the  coast  of  Maine  ? 
If  so,  you  know  how  the  rocky  shores 
stretch  out  now  and  then  clear  into  the 
ocean,  and  fret  the  salt  waves  till  they 
are  all  in  a  foam.  Old  Ocean  is  not  to 
be  so  set  at  defiance  and  have  his  right- 
ful territory  wrung  from  him,  without 
taking  his  revenge  after  his  own  fashion. 
Far  up  into  the  land  he  sends  his  arms, 
and  crooks  and  bends  and  makes  his  way 
amid  the  rocks,  and  finally  falls  asleep 
in  some  quiet  harbor,  where  the  tall  pines 
stand  by  the  shore  to  sing  him  a  lullaby. 


6  THE    BOY   PATEIOT. 

In  just  such  a  spot  as  this  the  town 
we  shall  call  Fairport  was  built.  Axe 
in  one  hand  and  Bible  in  the  other,  stern 
settlers  here  found  a  home.  Strong 
hard-featured  sons,  and  fair  rosy-cheek- 
ed daughters  made  glad  the  rude  cabins 
that  were  soon  scattered  along  the  shore. 
The  axe  was  plied  in  the  woods,  and  the 
needle  by  the  fireside,  and  yet  grim  Pov- 
erty was  ever  shaking  her  fist  in  ihe  very 
faces  of  the  settlers,  and  whispering  sad 
things  of  what  the  uncertain  future  might 
have  in  store  for  them. 

Cheerily  they  bore  the  .hardships  of 
the  present  hour,  and  a  deaf  ear  they 
turned  to  all  such  whispers.  Yet  those 
settlers  were  sensible,  matter-of-fact 
men;  and  it  was  soon  plain  to  them,  that 
healthful  as  were  the  breezes  that  made 
so  rosy  the  cheeks  of  their  daughters, 
Fairport  was  not  the  very  best  site  in  the 
world  for  a  settlement,  at  least  if  its  peo- 


FAIEPOET.  7 

pie  were  to  depend  on  the  thin  and  rocky 
soil  won  from  the  forest,  which  scarcely 
produced  the  bare  necessaries  of  life. 

Was  Fairport  given  up  in  despair? 
No,  no.  Her  settlers  were  not  the 
men  to  be  so  daunted  and  foiled.  If  the 
land  was  unkindly,  they  could  take  to 
the  water;  and  so  they  did,  to  a  man. 
Some  were  off  to  the  Newfoundland 
Banks,  tossing^  about  the  codfish,  and 
piling  them  up  into  stacks  that  were 
more  profitable  than  any  hay  of  their 
own  raising.  Some  were  on  board  swift 
vessels,  doing  a  good  share  of  the  carry- 
ing trade  between  the  West  Indies  and 
the  New  England  cities.  Some  were 
seeking  the  whale  far  in  the  northern 
seas  ;  while  others,  less  enterprising, 
were  content  to  fish  nearer  home  for  all 
sorts  of  eatable  dwellers  in  the  sea,  from 
halibut  to  herring. 

Now  a  new  day  had  begun  for  Fair- 


8  THE    BOY   PATEIOT. 

port.  The  original  cabins  began  to  tower 
in  the  air  or  encroach  on  the  submissive 
gardens,  as  building  after  building  was 
added  by  the  prosperous  owners.  Min- 
iature villas,  with  a  wealth  of  useless 
piazzas,  appeared  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  town,  and  substantial  wharves 
bordered  one  side  of  the  quiet  harbor, 
and  gave  a  welcome  to  the  shipping  that 
seemed  to  grow  and  cluster  there  like 
the  trees  of  a  forest. 

Fairport  had  passed  the  struggles  of 
its  early  youth  when  our  story  begins, 
though  there  were  gray-haired  citizens 
yet  within  its  borders  who  could  tell  how 
the  bears  had  once  looked  in  at  their  cabin 
windows,  and  the  pine-trees  had  stood 
thick  in  what  was  now  the  main  street  of 
the  rising  town. 


THE   YOUNG   ORATOR.  9 

CHAPTER-XL 

THE  YOUNG  ORATOR.    , 

THE  boys  of  Fairport  were  an  amphib- 
ious set,  who  could  live'  on  land  truly, 
but  were  happiest  when  in  or  near  the 
water.  To  fish  and  swim,  row,  trim  the 
sail,  and  guide  the  rudder,  were  accom- 
plishments they  all  could  boast.  A  bold, 
hardy,  merry  set  they  were ;  and  but  for 
the  schoolmaster's  rod  and  the  teaching 
of  their  pious  mothers,  might  have  been 
as  ignorant  as  oysters  and  merciless  as 
the  sharks.  Master  Penrose  had  whip- 
ped into  most  of  them  the  elements  of  a 
plain  English  education,  and  gentle  moth- 
ers had  power  to  soften  and  rule  these 
rough  boys,  when  perhaps  a  stronger 
hand  would  have  failed. 

Master  Penrose  always  gave  a  full 


10  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

holiday  on  Saturday.  Then  the  wharves 
were  sure  to  swarm  with  the  mischievous 
little  chaps,  all  eager  to  carry  out  some 
favorite  plan  for  amusement,  in  which 
old  Ocean  was  sure  to  be  engaged  as  a 
play-fellow.  Poor  indeed  was  the  lad 
who  had  not  a  fish-hook  and  line  with 
which  to  try  his  skill.  The  very  youn- 
gest had  his  tiny  boat  to  be  launched, 
while  his  elders  were  planning  sailing- 
parties,  or  jumping  and  leaping  in  the 
water  like  so  many  dolphins. 

Boys  like  to  have  a  leader,  some  one 
they  look  up  to  as  superior  to  the  rest, 
and  capable  of  deciding  knotty  ques- 
tions, and  "going  ahead"  in  all  times  of 
doubt  and  difficulty.  Blair  Robertson  oc- 
cupied this  position  among  the  youngsters 
of  Fairport.  He  had  lawfully  won  this 
place  among  his  fellows  and  "  achieved 
greatness,"  by  being  the  best  scholar  at 
the  academy,  as  well  as  the  boldest 


THE   YOUNG   ORATOR.  11 

swimmer,  most  skilful  fisherman,  and 
most  experienced  sailor  among  all  the 
boys  for  miles  along  the  coast.  It  was 
Blair  Robertson's  boast  that  he  belonged 
to  the  nineteenth  century,  and  grew  old 
with  it.  It  w.as  doubtful  whether  the 
bold  lad  considered  this  age  of  progress 
as  honored  by  his  playing  his  part  in  its 
drama,  or  whether  he  claimed  a  reflected 
glory,  as  having  been  born  at  the  very 
dawn  of  that  century  which  promised  so 
much  for  the  thronging  millions  of  our 
world. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  Joe  Eobertson  the 
pilot  and  Margaret  his  wife  rejoiced,  in 
the  year  1800,  over  their  first  and  only 
child.  Thirteen  years  had  swept  by, 
and  the  honest  couple  were  now  as  proud 
of  that  brave,  strong  boy  as  they  had 
been  of  their  baby,  and  with  better  rea- 
son. 

Troublous  times  had  come  upon  their 


12  THE   BOY   PATKIOT. 

native  land.  War  had  been  declared 
with  England.  All  Fairport  was  ablaze 
at  the  idea  of  American  seamen  being 
forced  to  serve  on  English  ships,  and  of 
decks  whose  timber  grew  in  the  free  for- 
ests of  Maine  or  North  .Carolina,  being 
trodden  by  the  unscrupulous  feet  of 
British  officers  with  insolent  search-war- 
rants in  their  hands. 

Blair  Robertson  had  his  own  views  on 
these  subjects — views  which  we  find  him 
giving  forth  to  his  devoted  followers  one 
sunny  Saturday  afternoon. 

Blair  was  mounted  on  a  sugar  hogs- 
head which  stood  in  front  of  one  of  the 
warehouses  on  the  wharf.  From  this 
place  of  eminence  he  looked  down  on  a 
constantly  increasing  crowd  of  youthful 
listeners.  A  half  hour  before,  a  row 
of  little  legs  had  been  hanging  over  the 
side  of  the  wharf,  while  their  owners 
were  intent  upon  certain  corks  and  lines 


THE    YOUNG   ORATOR.  13 

that  danced  or  quivered  amid  the  waves 
below.  Now  the  lines  were  made  fast 
to  stone  and  log,  while  the  small  fisher- 
men stood  agape  to  listen  to  the  fluent 
orator. 

This  was  but  the  nucleus  of  the  gath- 
ering crowd.  Every  boy  who  came  near 
the  eager  circle  must  of  course  stop  to 
find  out  what  was  going  on ;  and  it  was 
with  no  little  pride  that  Blair  beheld  the 
dozens  of  faces  soon  upturned  to  his. 

Blair  might  have  remembered  that  if 
there  had  been  but  a  dead  dog  in  the 
centre  of  the  group,  there  would  have 
been  an  equal  gathering  and  pushing  to 
know  the  cause  of  the  meeting  j  but  he, 
like  many  an  older  speaker,  was  willing 
to  attribute  to  his  eloquence  what  might 
have  had  even  a  humbler  cause. 

"Our  rights  invaded;  a  man's  ship 
no  longer  his  castle ;  the  free  American 
forced  to  forsake  his  stars  and  stripes ! 


14  THE    BOY   PATKIOT. 

The  foot  of  the  Briton  pollutes  our  decks. 
His  tyrannical  arm  takes  captive  our 
fathers,  and  dooms  them  to  a  servitude 
of  which  the  world  knows  no  equal. 
Shall  we  submit  ?  We  will  not  submit. 
We  have  protested.  We  have  declared 
war  to  the  death.  Has  Fairport  a  voice 
in  this  matter  ?  Where  are  those  whom 
we  love  best  ?  Where  but  upon  the  wide 
sea,  a  prey  to  our  remorseless  enemy. 
Where  is  your  father,  and  yours,  and 
yours,  and  mine  ?"  said  Blair,  making  his 
appeal  personal  as  he  pointed  to  the 
sailors'  sons.  "This  insolence  must  be 
checked.  We  must  rebuke  the  proud 
Briton  on  the  very  scene  of  his  abomina- 
tions. We  must  triumph  over  him  on 
the  tossing  ocean,  and  teach  him  that 
America,  not  Britannia,  rules  the  waves. 
Would  that  we  all  stood  on  some  staunch 
ship,  to  do  battle  with  our  young  right- 
arms.  Then  should  Englishmen  cringe 


THE   YOUNG   ORATOR.  15 

before  us ;  then  would  we  doom  to  sud- 
den destruction  their  boasted  admirals 
and  flimsy  fleets.  Down  with  the  Eng- 
lish !  down  with  the  English !" 

Blair  stamped  emphatically  on  his  hol- 
low throne,  until  it  rang  again. 

"  Down  with  the  English !"- echoed  the 
crowd  in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm. 

At  this  moment  a  short,  stout  lad 
came  round  a  neighboring  corner.  On 
his  arm  he  carried  a  large  basket  of  clean 
linen,  with  which  he  now  tried  to  elbow 
his  way  through  the  crowd. 

"An  English  boy!  Shame  that  he 
should  show  his  face  among  us,"  said 
Blair  in  his  excitement. 

"  We  '11  give  him  a  taste  of  salt  water," 
said  two  or  three  of  the  oldest  boys  as 
they  seized  the  stranger  roughly  by  the 
shoulders.  "We'll  teach  him  to  mend 
his  manners." 

"  Stop,   stop,  boys.     Give  him  fair 


16  THE   BOY    PATKIOT. 

play, "-shouted  Blair;  but  Blair  was  no 
longer  the  object  of  attention. 

The  English  boy,  in  spite  of  his  strug- 
gles, was  hurried  to  the  edge  of  the 
wharf,  and  pushed  relentlessly  over  the 
brink. 

A  thorough  ducking  to  him,  and  the 
scattering  of  his  precious  basket  of 
clothes,  was  all  that  the  young  rascals 
intended.  To  their  horror,  the  stranger 
sank  like  a  heavy  load — rose,  and  then 
sank  again. 

"He  can't  swim ;  he  can't  swim. 
He'll  be  drowned!"  burst  from  the  lips 
of  the  spectators.  All  were  paralyzed 
with  fear. 

Blair  had  forced  his  way  through  the 
crowd,  and  reached  the  edge  of  the  wharf 
in  time  to  see  the  pale,  agonized  face  of 
the  English  boy,  as  he  for  the  second 
time  rose  to  the  surface.  In  another  mo- 
ment Blair  was  diving  where,  far  in  the 


THE    YOUNG   ORATOK.  17 

deep  water,  the  pale  face  had  vanished 
from  sight. 

There  was  a  moment  of  breathless 
silence,  then  a  deafening  cheer,  as  Blair 
reappeared  with  the  drowning  boy  in  his 
arms. 

There  were  hands  enough  outstretched 
to  aid  him  in  laying  his  burden  on  the 
shore.  "Help  me  carry  him,  boys, 
straight  to  our  house.  Mother  will  know 
what  to  do  for  him,"  said  Blair,,  speaking 
very  quickly. 

It  was  but  a  few  steps  down  a  neigh- 
boring street  to  Joe  Eobertson's  pleas- 
ant home. 

Blair  did  not  fear  to  take  in  the  drip- 
ping boy  and  lay  him  on  his  mother's 
best  bed.  He  knew  that  mother's  joy 
was  to  minister  to  the  distressed  and 
succor  the  unfortunate. 

The  water  was  soon  pouring  from  the 
mouth,  nose,  and  ears  of  the  unconscious 

Young  Patriot.  2 


18  THE   BOY   PATEIOT. 

lad.  Then  he  was  rubbed  and  wrapped 
round  with  hot  flannels,  while  Mrs.  Rob- 
ertson's own  hands  forced  his  lungs  to 
work,  until  they  again  took  their  natural 
movement. 

Not  a  word  was  asked  as  to  how  the 
accident  had  happened,  until,  out  of  dan- 
ger, the  rescued  boy  was  in  a  sweet 
sleep. 

The  eager  crowd  who  had  followed 
Blair  and  his  charge  had  vanished,  and 
the  mother  sat  alone  with  her  son. 
Blair's  dripping  garments  had  been  ex- 
changed for  another  suit,  but  in  the  midst 
of  the  late  confusion  his  mother's  eye  had 
silently  and  gratefully  marked  upon  him 
the  signs  that  to  him  the  English  boy 
owed  his  life. 

"You  saved  him,  my  son.  God  be 
thanked.  I  may  well  be  proud  of  my 
boy,"  said  the  mother  earnestly  and 
fondly. 


THE   YOUNG   OEATOE.  19 

A  sudden  flush  of  shame  crimsoned 
the  cheeks  of  Blair  Eobertson.  "Oh, 
mother,  it  was  all  my  fault,"  he  exclaim- 
ed. "If  he  had  died— Oh,  if  he  had 
died,  that  pale  struggling  face  would 
have  haunted  me  to  my  grave.  I  had 
been  making  one  of  my  speeches  to  the 
boys,  and  it  pleased  me  to  see  how  I 
could  rouse  them.  I  had  just  shouted 
'  Down  with  the  English !'  .t  and  made 
them  join  me,  when  poor  Hal  came 
round  the  corner.  Nobody  would  have 
noticed  him  if  I  had  gone  right  on ;  but 
I  pointed  him  out,  and  angry  as  they 
were,  1  could  not  stop  them  before  they 
had  thrown  him  into  the  water.  They 
thought  he  could  swim,  I  dare  say;  but 
I  knew  he  could  n't.  Oh,  mother,  what 
I  suffered,  thinking  he  might  drown  be- 
fore I  could  reach  him.  But  he 's  safe 
now.  You  think  he  '11  get  well,  do  n't 
you,  mother  ?" 


20  THE   BOY   PATKIOT. 

"Yes,  my  child,"  said  Mrs.  Robert- 
son, trembling  with  deep  feeling.  "God's 
mercy  has  been  great  to  you,  my  boy. 
May  you  learn  this  day  a  solemn  lesson. 
You  have  a  powerful  influence  over  your 
companions.  You  know  it,  and  I  am 
afraid  it  has  only  fed  your  pride,  not 
prompted  you  to  usefulness.  Is  it  real 
love  for  your  country  that  leads  you  to 
these  speeches ;  or  is  it  a  desire  to  see 
how  you  can  rouse  the  passions  of  your 
listeners,  and  force  them  to  do  your  bid- 
ding? For  every  talent  we  must  give 
an  account,  and  surely  for  none  more 
strictly  than  the  power  to  prompt  men 
to  good  or  evil.  I  believe  you  love  your 
country,  my  boy.  You  love  our  dear 
country,  or  I  would  blush  to  own  you  as 
my  son.  But  I  fear  you  have  as  yet  but 
a  poor  idea  what  it  is  to  be  a  true  pa- 
triot." 

"A  true  patriot,  mother?    I  think  I 


THE   YOUNG  OKATOR.  21 

know  what  that  means.  One  who  loves 
his  country,  and  would  cheerfully  die  for 
her,"  said  Blair  with  enthusiasm. 

"You  might  even  love  your  country 
and  die  for  her,  and  yet  be  no  true  pa- 
triot," said  the  mother.  "  You  might  be 
her  disgrace,  and  the  cause  of  her  afflic- 
tions, while  you  shed  for  her  your  heart's 
blood." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  the 
boy  thoughtfully. 

"  Perhaps  Korah  and  his  company 
thought  themselves  patriots  when  they 
rebelled  against  the  power  of  Moses  and 
Aaron.  They  doubtless  moved  the  peo- 
ple by  cunning  speeches  about  their  own 
short-lived  honor ;  yet  they  brought  de- 
struction on  themselves  and  a  plague 
upon  Israel.  There  is  nothing  more 
plain  in  the  Bible  than  God's  great  re- 
gard to  the  righteousness  or  wickedness 
of  individual  men.  Suppose  that  there 


22  THE   BOY   PATEIOT. 

had  been  found  ten  righteous  men  in 
Sodom,  for  whose  sake  that  wicked  city 
would  have  been  spared  its  awful  doom. 
Humble  and  obscure  they  might  have 
been ;  but  would  not  they,  who  brought 
such  a  blessing  down  on  the  neighbor- 
hood where  they  dwelt,  be  worthy  of  the 
name  of  patriots  ?  My  son,  if  you  were 
willing  to  lay  down  your  life  for  your 
country,  and  yet  were  guilty  of  the  foul 
sin  of  swearing,  and  taught  all  around 
you  to  blaspheme,  would  you  not  be  lay- 
ing up  wrath  against  your  native  land, 
though  you  fought  with  the  bravery  of 
an  Alexander?  These  are  times  .to  think 
on  these  things,  my  boy,  if  we  really 
love  our  country.  No  man  liveth  unto 
himself.  His  home,  his  state,  his  coun- 
try is  in  a  degree  blessed  or  cursed  for 
his  sake.  Dear  Blair,  you  cannot  be  a 
true  patriot  without  God's  grace  to  help 
you  rule  your  heart,  guard  your  lips, 


THE   YOUNG   ORATOR.  23 

and  purify  your  life.  May  you  this  day 
begin,  for  your  own  sake  as  well  as  for 
that  of  your  country,  to  serve  the  God 
of  our  fathers.  He  has  mercifully  spared 
3rou  the  bitter  self-reproach  to  which  you 
might  have  been  doomed.  Gro  in  repent- 
ance to  his  footstool,  and  he  will  abun- 
dantly pardon.  Resolve  henceforward 
to  walk  humbly  before  him,  trusting  in 
his  grace  and  striving  to  do  his  will,  and 
you  shall  count  this  day  the  most  blessed 
of  your  life." 

Mrs.  Robertson  put  her  arm  round  the 
tall,  strong  boy  at  her  side.  He  yielded 
to  her  touch,  as  if  he  had  been  a  little 
child.  Side  by  side  they  knelt,  while 
the  mother  poured  out  such  a  prayer  as 
can  only  flow  from  the  lips  of  a  Chris- 
tian mother  pleading  for  her  only  son. 

Blair  Robertson  spent  that  long  Sat- 
urday evening  alone  in  his  room.  That 
was  indeed  to  be  the  beginning  of  days 


24  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

to  him.  He  was  no  longer  to  be  a  self- 
willed  seeker  of  his  own  pleasure  and 
honor.  He  was  "bought  with  a  price," 
and  was  henceforward  to  be  a  servant  of 
the  King  of  kings. 


THE    ENGLISH   BOY.  25 

/ 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  ENGLISH  BOY. 

No  loving  friends  came  to  inquire  after 
the  fate  of  Hal  Hutchings,  the  English 
boy.  His  efforts  to  save  his  basket  of 
clean  linen  had  been  as  vain  as  his  strug- 
gles to  free  himself  from  the  hands  of  his 
persecutors.  The  garments  that  had  been 
starched  and  ironed  with  such  scrupulous 
care  we're  scattered  along  the  wharf,  and 
trampled  under  the  feet  of  the  thought- 
less young  mob.  The  old  washerwoman 
on  whose  errand  Hal  had  been  sent  forth, 
was  too  indignant  at  the  destruction 
which  had  befallen  her  handiwork,  to 
give  one  kindly  thought  to  the  poor  boy 
who  had  so  honorably  striven  to  spare 
her  the  misfortune  over  which  she  lament- 
ed so  dolorously.  Her  Sunday  thoughts 


26  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

strayed  far  more  frequently  to  the  dingy, 
stained  garments  soaking  in  her  back 
kitchen,  than  to  Hal  Hutchings,  quietly 
lying  in  Mrs.  Robertson's  best  bedroom. 

"I  wonder  no  one  comes  to  inquire 
after  him.  Has  he  no  friends,  Blair?" 
said  Mrs.  Robertson  as  evening  was 
drawing  on. 

"I  dare  say  not,  mother.  I  never 
saw  him  with  anybody.  He  does  errands 
round  town,  and  has  been  sleeping  at 
Mrs.  McKinstry's,  the  washerwoman's. 
He  did  n't  take  his  meals  there,  I  know, 
for  I've  seen  him  eating  bread  and  cheese 
in  some  corner  just  when  other  folks 
were  sitting  down  to  dinner.  They  call 
him  'Hal  the  English  boy;'  but  I  guess 
nobody  knows  much  about  him." 

"A  stranger  in  a  strange  land,"  said 
Mrs.  Robertson  thoughtfully ;  and  then 
she  rose  up  and  went  into  the  room  where 
Hal  was  still  lying. 


THE    ENGLISH   BOY.  27 

Blair  took  up  his  Bible.  How  precious 
that  Bible  seemed  to  him  now — the 
light  for  his  feet,  the  lamp  for  his  path. 
With  reverence  he  turned  the  sacred 
pages  until  he  found  the  fifty -first  psalm, 
which  he  read  with  solemn  earnestness, 
making  its  humble  petitions  truly  his 
own. 

While  Blair  was  thus  employed,  Mrs. 
Robertson  was  talking  in  her  own  kindly 
way  to  the  stranger. 

"So  you  are  an  English  boy,  Hal," 
she  said.  "  That  will  not  keep  me  from 
loving  you,  for  you  know  the  Bible  says 
we  must  'love  our  enemies;'  but  I  don't 
believe  you  are  such  a  very  dangerous 
enemy,  after  all."  Her  pleasant  smile 
was  like  sunshine  to  the  heart  of  the 
lonely  boy,  and  his  reserve  melted  away 
before  it. 

"  I  ;m  Hinglish,  because  I  was  born  in 
Hingland,"  said  the  boy.  "I  couldn't 


28  THE    BOY   PATKIOT. 

help  that ;  and  I  could  n't  blame  my 
father  and  mother  for  it  neither,  for  I 
never  knowed  them.  IVe  been  an  or- 
phan always.  But  I  'm  an  American, 
because  I  chose  this  for  my  country,  and 
I  worked  my  passage  over  here,  and  I 
have  n't  begged  from  anybody." 

"  I  'm  glad  you  want  to  be  an  Ameri- 
can," said  Mrs.  Eobertson  gently;  "it  is 
a  great  privilege.  But  there  is  some- 
thing more  to  do  for  every  boy  who 
wants  to  be  an  American  citizen,  than 
just  landing  in  this  country  and  earning 
his  own  living,  and  then  by  and  by  vot- 
ing for  our  rulers." 

Hal  opened  his  large  pale  blue  eyes 
in  confused  expectation,  and  was  silent. 

Mrs.  Robertson  was  not  easily  dis- 
couraged, and  she  went  on.  "You  would 
think  it  very  rude,  Hal,  if  I  were  to  in- 
vite a  poor  stranger  to  my  house  to  din- 
ner, and  he  should  jump  and  laugh  while 


THE   ENGLISH   BOY.  29 

I  was  asking  God's  blessing  before  eat- 
ing ;  and  then  toss  the  plates  about, 
breaking  my  dishes  and  scattering  the 
food  over  my  clean  floor.  You  would 
think  the  least  he  could  do  would  be  to 
be  civil,  and  keep  the  rules  of  my  house 
while  he  was  in  it." 

"Such -a  chap  as  that  ought  to  have 
the  door  showed  him  right  straight,"  said 
Hal  warmly. 

"Well,  my  boy,  this  is  what  I  mean: 
When  we  welcome  strangers  to  our  free 
country,  which  our  fathers  fought  for  and 
gave  their  blood  to  win,  we  expect  those 
strangers  to  fall  in  with  our  ways,  and 
not  disturb  the  peace  and  order  of  the 
pleasant  home  they  have  come  to.  Is 
not  that  right?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  and  I  haven't  disturb- 
ed anybody's  peace  nor  order,"  said  Hal 
with  another  blank  look  of  the  blue  eyes. 

"  No,  and  I  do  not  believe  you  ever 


30  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

will ;  but  I  have  not  done  yet,  A  free 
people,  to  be  a  safe  people,  must  be  a 
Christian  people.  Are  you  a  Christian 
boy,  Hal?"  The  question  was  asked 
with  deep  seriousness. 

"I  a'n't  a  heathen,"  said  Hal  in  sur- 
prise. 

"No,  you  don't  bow  down  to  a  wood- 
en idol,  or  worship  snakes  and  bulls,  as 
some  heathen  people  do.  But  are  you 
trying  to  serve  God  in  all  you  think  and 
do  and  say  ?  Have  you  asked  him  to 
forgive  you  all  your  sins,  for  the  sake  of 
his  dear  Son ;  and  do  you  believe  he  has 
forgiven  you,  and  taken  you  to  be  his 
own  dear  child  ?" 

"I  never  had  anybody  talk  to  me  so 
before,"  said  Hal  with  a  confused  look; 
"but  I  take  it,  I  a'n't  what  you  call  a 
Christian." 

"I  dare  say  you  do  not  understand  me 
very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Robertson.  "God 


THE   ENGLISH   BOY.  31 

can  make  these  things  plain  to  you. 
Close  your  eyes,  and  I  will  kneel  down 
here  and  ask  him  to  teach  you  to  know 
and  love  his  holy  will." 

Hal  had  been  at  church  many  times  in 
his  life,  and  looked  curiously  on  at  the 
whole  proceeding,  as  at  a  "show."  Now 
for  the  first  time  he  heard  prayer  made 
for  him,  for  poor  Hal  Hutchings,  to  the 
great  God  of  heaven.  He  gathered  but 
little  of  the  burden  of  the  prayer;  yet 
his  first  remark  after  Mrs.  Robertson 
resumed  her  seat  beside  him  was  a  proof 
that  he  appreciated  the  sincerity  of  her 
interest  in  him. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  ma'am,"  he  said. 
"I'd  like  to  be  such  an  American  as 
you.  I  take  it  you  are  the  best  sort, 
not  like  them  boys  on  the  wharf." 

"Those  boys  are  very  sorry  for  their 
mischief  by  this  time,"  said  Mrs.  Robert- 
son. "My  own  son  would  gladly. do 


32  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

any  thing  for  you.  He  says  he  never 
shall  forget  what  he  suffered  when  he 
thought  you  might  be  drowned  in  conse- 
quence of  his  folly.  But  I  think  he  has 
learned  a  lesson  he  will  never  forget. 
He  has  seen  how  far  wrong  he  might  go 
if  he  followed  his  own  foolish  ways.  I 
trust  he  will  hereafter  be  a  faithful,  hum- 
ble child  of  God." 

"He  pulled  me  out  of  the  water,"  said 
Hal  warmly.  "He's  true  grit.  I'd  go 
to  the  death  for  him." 

"He  will  be  very  glad  to  have  you 
for  a  faithful  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Robert- 
son; "but  look,  you  must  not  teach  him 
any  thing  bad,  or  tempt  him  to  do  wrong. 
He  is  my  only  child,  and  my  dearest 
wish  is  to  see  him  a  noble,  pure,  Chris- 
tian man." 

"I  wont  teach  him  any  'arm  as  I 
knows  to  be  'arm,"  said  Hal,  putting  out 
his  hand  to  ratify  the  bargain. 


THE   ENGLISH  BOY.  33 

It  was  a  rough,  hard  hand,  but  Mrs. 
Robertson  took  it  kindly  as  she  answer- 
ed, "God  help  you  to  keep  your  prom- 
ise, Hal ;"  and  so  their  interview  closed. 

When  Monday  morning  came,  Hal 
Hutchings  was  up  and  dressed  almost  as 
early  as  Mrs.  Eobertson  herself.  Into 
the  kitchen  he  walked,  hearing  the  good 
lady's  voice  in  that  direction.  "I'm 
going  now,"  he  said,  "and  I  just  looked 
in  to  bid  you  good-by." 

"Stop  and  lake  breakfast  with  us, 
wont  you,  Hal  ?  You  shall  not  go  away 
hungry." 

Some  crisp ,cakes  of  codfish  and  pota- 
toes were  getting  the  last  coat  of  brown 
in  a  frying-pan  over  the  fire,  and  a  huge 
loaf  of  Boston  "brown  bread"  was  on 
the  table  near  at  hand. 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  a  slice  of  that  bread 
and  one  of  them  cakes,  if  you  would  let 
me  sit  down  here  and  eat  'em,"  said  Hal. 

Yonng  Patriot.  3 


34  THE    BOY  PATEIOT. 

Mrs.  Robertson  understood  the  boy's 
unwillingness  to  take  a  meal  with  stran- 
gers who  had  been  raised  in  habits  of 
greater  refinement  than  his  own.  She 
kindly  made  a  place  for  him  where  he 
was,  and  he  soon  rendered  it  evident 
that  bashfulness  had  not  taken  away  his 
appetite.  "I  don't  want  you  to  leave 
us,"  said  Mrs.  Eobertson.  "I  should 
like  to  have  you  stay  here  until  we  can 
find  something  for  you  to  do.  I  want  to 
teach  you  to  be  a  good  Christian  boy,  the 
right  kind  of  an  American." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  beholden  to  any- 
body," said  Hal  with  decision.  "I  work- 
ed my  way  over,  and  I  have  n't  begged 
a  penny  since  I  came.  I  do  n't  mean  to, 
unless  I  ;m  starving.  Mrs.  McKinstry 
has  let  me  her  little  room.  I  've  paid  for 
it  for  this  month,  and  I  do  n't  mean  to 
lose  my  money.  But  I  like  your  teach- 
ing, ma'am.  It  takes  hold  of  me  differ- 


THE   ENGLISH  BOY.  35 

ent  from  any  thing  I  ever  heard  be- 
fore." 

"Come  in  on  Sunday  evenings  then, 
Hal.  I  am  always  at  home  then,  and  J 
should  love  dearly  to  teach  you,  and 
help  you  to  be  a  good  boy.  Will  you 
come  ?"  said  Mrs.  Eobertson. 

" I  will,  ma'am,  I  will,"  said  Hal;  and 
making  a  rude  attempt  at  a  bow,  he  took 
his  leave. 


36  THE   BOY  PATEIOT. 

i 

CHAPTER  IY. 

THE  PATRIOT'S  WORK. 

MRS.  ROBERTSON  and  her  son  were 
sitting  at  their  pleasant  breakfast-table 
together. 

"Blair,"  said  the  mother,  "you  want 
to  be  a  patriot.  Here  is  some  work  for 
you  to  do  for  your  country.  We  must 
try  to  make  a  good  American  citizen  out 
of  Hal,  and  a  good  Christian  at  the  same 
time.  The  poor  fellow  is  deeply  grateful 
to  you,  and  you  will  have  a  powerful 
influence  over  him." 

"  I  can't  bear  the  English,"  said  Blair 
warmly.  "I  don't  like  any  foreigners, 
for  that  matter.  It  don't  seem  to  me 
they  are  the  right  stuff  to  make  Ameri- 
can citizens  out  of.  Give  me  the  native- 
born  Yankee,  free  and  independent  from 


THE   PATRIOT'S   WORK.  3t 

his  cradle  upwards.  That's  my  way  of 
thinking." 

Blair  stood  up  as  he  spoke,  and  waved 
his  knife  in  a  manner  more  emphatic 
than  elegant.  A  speech,  one  of  his  fa- 
vorite speeches,  seemed  imminent.  Blair 
did  love  to  hear  himself  talk. 

"My  son,  our  question  in  life  is  not 
what  we  like,  but  what  is  duty.  I  think 
the  laws  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  should 
be  the  guide  to  every  lover  of  his  coun- 
try. The  voice  of  our  Saviour  is,  '  Come 
unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy- 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.'  'The 
Spirit  and  the  bride  say,  Come;  and  let 
him  that  heareth  say,  Come.'1  Every  true 
Christian  echoes  the  saying  of  St.  Paul, 
'  I  would  to  God  that  not  only  thou,  but 
also  all  that  hear  me  this  day,  were  both 
almost  and  altogether  such  as  I  am,  ex- 
cept these  bonds.'  So  it  should  be  with 
every  favored  citizen  of  our  happy  land. 


38  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

We  should  welcome  the  oppressed  of 
every  clime,  and  strive  to  make  them 
worthy  partakers  of  the  blessings  we 
enjoy.  I  do  not  like  to  hear  you  say 
you  hate  any  nation.  We  are  all  of  one 
blood,  made  in  God's  image." 

"Dear  mother/'  said  Blair,  "you  are 
right ;  you  are  always  right.  How  thank- 
ful I  ought  to  be  to  have  such  a  guide, 
and  such  a  help  in  keeping  my  new  res- 
olutions. I  want  to  do  my  duty  even 
when  it  is  hard  for  me.  You  shall  see 
what  a  friend  I  will  be  to  Hal.  I  mean 
to  go  out  as  soon  as  I  have  done  break- 
fast, and  see  if  I  can  look  him  up  some 
steady  work.  I  heard  Old  Jock  say  on 
Saturday  he  wanted  a  strong  boy  to  help 
him  handle  his  nets.  I  '11  try  to  get  the 
place  for  Hal." 

Blair  was  as  prompt  to  act  as  to  plan. 
A  half  hour  -after  breakfast  was  over 
he  was  standing  by  the  cottage  of  an 


THE   PATRIOT'S   WOEK.  39 

old  fisherman  and  knocking  for  admit- 
tance. 

It  took  all  Blair's  powers  of  persua- 
sion to  induce  Jock  to  have  any  thing  to 
do  with  what  he  called  a  "furrinerv" 
The  case  seemed  well-nigh  lost,  when 
Blair  mounted  on  a  chair,  and  made  a 
small  speech  in  his  best  style  for  the 
benefit  of  his  single  auditor.  Whether 
won  over  by  its  logic  or  through  a  sense 
of  the  honor  thus  conferred  upon  him, 
Jock  agreed  to  Blair's  proposition. 

"The  first  speech  I  ever  made  to  any 
purpose,"  thought  Blair,  as  he  walked 
rapidly  along  the  shore,  wending  his  way 
to  Mrs.  McKinstry's  dwelling. 

Hal  had  locked  himself  into  his  "  cas- 
tle," as  the  only  way  in  which  he  could 
escape  the  merciless  scolding  of  his  vol- 
uble hostess.  She  seemed  to  consider 
every  stain  on  the  injured  garments  a 
blot  on  the  shield  of  the  English  boy 


40  THE    BOY    PATRIOT. 

which  no  apologies  could  excuse  or  ef- 
face. Hal  fairly  fled  before  the  enemy ; 
and  once  safe  in  his  own  room,  whistled 
so  lustily  as  to  drown  all  sound  of  the 
railing  from  without. 

It  was  an  unusually  busy  day  with 
Mrs.  McKinstry,  or  it  is  doubtful  wheth- 
er she  would  have  allowed  even  this  close 
to  the  skirmish,  for  she  had  a  taste  for 
such  encounters.  Blair  however  heard 
the  dripping  and  swashing  of  water  in 
the  rear  of  the  hous,e  as  he  went  up  the 
narrow  stairway.  The  wide  cap-border 
of  Mrs.  McKinstry  was  fanning  back- 
wards and  forwards,  as  she  bent  with  a 
regular  motion  over  the  tub  in  which  her 
red  arms  were  immersed.  She  gave  one 
look  at  Blair  as  he  went  up  to  her  lodg- 
er's room,  but  did  not  condescend  even 
to  exchange  watchwords  with  him. 

In  answer  to  Blair's  knock  was  re- 
tured  a  resolute  "Who  's  there?" 


THE   PATRIOT'S   WORK.  41 

The  reply  set  Hal's  mind  at  ease,  and 
the  visitor  was  promptly  admitted.  Blair 
stated  his  business  at  once,  but  to  his 
surprise  he  met  with  a  blank  refusal  from 
Hal.  He  would  not  fall  in  with  such  a 
plan,  not  he.  He  would  keep  out  of  the 
water  while  there  was  any  land  left  to 
stand  on.  He  had  had  enough  of  plump- 
ing to  the  bottom,  and  coming  up,  ears 
singing,  throat  choking,  and  soul  almost 
scared  out  of  him.  Better  a  crumb  of 
bread  and  a  morsel  of  cheese,  than  fat- 
ness and  plenty  earned  in  such  a  way. 

It  was  hard  for  Blair  to  understand 
the  nervous  fear  of  drowning  which  had 
taken  possession  of  poor  Hal.  Fairport 
boys  could  swim  almost  as  soon  as  they 
could  walk.  They  knew  nothing  of  the 
helpless  feeling  of  one  who  has  the  great 
deep  under  him,  and  is  powerless  to 
struggle  in  its  waves. 

But  a  few  short  days  before,   Blair 


42  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

would  have  pronounced  Hal  a  coward, 
and  left  him  in  disdain.  Now  he  stood 
silent  for  a  moment,  baffled  and  puzzled. 
"I'll  teach  you  to  swim,  Hal,"  he  said 
at  length.  "  We  '11  try  in  shallow  water 
first,  where  you  could  n't  drown,  unless 
you  wish  to  drown  yourself.  It  is  easy — 
just  as  easy  as  any  thing,  if  you  only 
know  how.  I  '11  come  for  you  after 
school  this  evening,  and  we  '11  go  up  the 
creek,  where  the  boys  wont  be  about.  I 
should  n't  wonder  if  you  were  to  take  to 
it  like  a  fish." 

The  English  boy  looked  into  Blair's 
frank  pleasant  face,  and  the  dogged  ex- 
pression passed  from  his  own.  He  took 
-Blair's  hand  as  he  said,  "  I  '11  try.  You 
shall  see  what  you  can  make  out  of 
me." 

Before  many  weeks  were  over,  Hal 
Hutchings  was  as  good  a  swimmer  as 
half  the  boys  in  Fatrport.  Old  Jock  no 


THE    PATRIOT'S   WORK.  43 

longer  waded  into  the  deep  water  to  set 
his  nets  or  push  his  boat  ashore.  He 
declared  that  Hal  had  scared  the  rheu- 
matism out  of  his  bones,  and  it  was  not 
likely  to  make  bold  to  come  back,  if 
things  went  on  as  they  seemed  to  prom- 
ise. 


44  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

CHAPTEE  Y. 

BLAIR'S  COMPANY. 

BLAIR  EOBERTSOJST  had  long  had  a  fa- 
mous military  company  of  his  own,  called 
the  Fairport  Guard.  A  guard  against 
what  had  never  been  publicly  stated ; 
and  as  they  had  no  written  constitution 
for  their  association,  posterity  must  ever 
remain  in  ignorance  on  this  point.  Up 
and  down  the  streets  of  Fairport  it  was 
their  delight  to  parade  on  a  Saturday 
afternoon,  to  the  infinite  amusement  of 
the  small  girls  who  ate  molasses  candy 
and  looked  at  the  imposing  array. 

The  breaking  out  of  the  war  infused  a 
new  military  spirit  into  all  the  young- 
sters on  the  Atlantic  coast,  and  the  Fair- 
port  Guard  came  in  for  their  share  of  this 
growing  enthusiasm.  Cocks'  tail  feath- 


BLAIE'S   COMPANY.  45 

ers  and  broomsticks  were  suddenly  in 
great  requisition  for  the  increasing  rank 
and  file,  and  the  officers  bore  themselves 
with  added  dignity,  and  gave  out  their 
orders  with  an  earnestness  which  proved 
that  they  appreciated  the  work  they  were 
imitating. 

When  it  was  rumored  that  Blair  Eob- 
ertson  had  become  a  communicant  in  the 
church  to  which  his  mother  belonged, 
there  was  a  general  groan  among  his  old 
followers  and  adherents.  Here  was  an 
end,  in  their  minds,  to  the  Fairport 
Guard,  and  every  other  species  of  fun 
in  which  Blair  had  been  so  long  a  leader 
and  abettor. 

Blair  was  at  first  inclined  to  shrink 
from  his  old  companions ;  but  as  the  right 
spirit  grew  and  strengthened  within  him, 
he  mingled  among  them  more  freely,  ac- 
tuated by  the  desire  to  win  new  citizens 
for  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  to  guide 


46  THE   BOY   PATKIOT. 

his  wild  associates  into  such  paths  as 
would  make  them  a  blessing  to  their  na- 
tive land. 

Blair's  heart  had  been  like  rich  ground, 
in  which  his  mother  had  been  sowing, 
sowing,  sowing  good  seed,  prayerfully 
waiting  until  it  should  spring  up  and 
take  root  to  his  own  salvation  and  the 
glory  of  God.  That  happy  time  had 
come.  All  the  words  of  counsel,  all  the 
pure  teaching  that  had  been  stored  in 
his  mind,  seemed  now  warmed  into  life, 
and  ever  rising  up  to  prompt  him  to 
good  and  guard  him  from  evil.  Happy 
are  the  boys  who  have  such  a  mother. 

A  series  of  rainy  Saturdays  had  post- 
poned the  question  as  to  whether  the 
Fairport  Guard  should  parade  as  usual 
under  the  command  of  their  long  honored 
captain.  A  bright  sunny  holiday  came 
at  last,  and  Blair's  decision  on  this  point 
must  now  be  declared.  Long  and  pray- 


BLAIR'S    COMPANY.  47 

erfulty  the  boy  had  considered  the  sub- 
ject; and  his  conclusion  was  fixed  and 
unalterable. 

The  change  in  Blair's  principles  and 
feelings  had  not  alienated  him  from  his 
former  companions.  Each  one  of  them 
had  now  for  him  a  new  value.  They 
were  to  him  wandering  children  of  his 
heavenly  Father,  whom  he  longed  to 
bring  back  to  that  Father's  house.  The 
wildest  and  most  erring  among  them 
called  forth  his  most  tender  interest,  as 
farthest  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven  and 
in  the  most  danger  of  utter  destruction. 

Blair's  love  of  his  country  too  had 
been  but  deepened  and  increased  by  his 
late  realization  of  the  allegiance  he  him- 
self owed  to  the  King  of  kings.  His  na- 
tive land  was  now  to  him  a  dear  portion 
of  the  great  vineyard  on  which  he  desir- 
ed the  especial  blessing  of  God.  He 
more  deeply  appreciated  the  fact  that 


48  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

every  true  Christian  man  is  indeed  an 
element  of  wholesome  life  and  prosperity 
to  the  neighborhood  and  land  in  which 
he  dwells.  The  boys  of  the  present  day 
were  soon  to  be  the  men  on  whom  the 
state  must  rely  for  power  and  perma- 
nency. With  a  true  patriot's  zeal,  Blair 
resolved  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  bring 
the  boys  of  Fairport  to  be  such  Chris- 
tian men  as  would  be  a  blessing  in  their 
day  and  generation.  These  thoughts  had 
gone  far  to  fix  his  decision  with  refer- 
ence to  the  Fairport  Guard. 

It  was  with  a  burst  of  enthusiastic  ap- 
plause that  the  little  company  saw  Blair 
appear  upon  the  public  square  in  his 
well-known  uniform,  His  three-cor- 
nered hat  of  black  pasteboard  was  sur- 
mounted by  a  long  black  feather,  and 
fastened  under  his  chin  by  a  fine  leather 
strap,  the  strap  being  bordered  by  a  fe- 
rocious pair  of  whiskers,  to  afford  which 


BLAZE'S   COMPANY.  49 

the  "black  sheep"  of  some  neighboring 
flock  had  evidently  suffered.  His  grand- 
father's coat,  which  had  been  worn  at 
Bunker  Hill,  enveloped  his  slender  form, 
and  increased  the  imposing  effect  of  his 
tall  figure  upon  the  minds  of  his  subor- 
dinates. 

"Three  cheers  for  Captain  Robert- 
son! Three  cheers  for  Blair!"  shouted 
the  boys  as  their  leader  approached. 

The  cheers  rung  out  on  the  air  some- 
what feebly,  though  that  was  owing  to 
the  weakness  of  the  throats  that  raised 
them,  rather  than  to  any  want  of  good- 
will, and  so  Blair  understood  it. 

"  Now  give  us  a  speech  before  we  fall 
into  rank,"  called  out  one  of  the  com- 
pany. 

"That  is  just  what  I  mean  to  do,  if 
you  will  all  listen  to  me,"  said  the  cap- 
tain in  his  most  dignified  manner. 

The  stump  of  a  fallen  tree  served  to 

Young  Patriot.  4 


50  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

elevate  our  speaker  on  this  occasion,  as 
it  has  many  an  older  orator  in  circum- 
stances no  more  interesting  to  his  hear- 
ers than  were  the  present  to  the  eager 
group  of  listeners. 

Blair  had  another  purpose  now  than 
to  hear  himself  talk.  The  short  pause 
which  preceded  his  opening  sentence  was 
not  merely  for  effect.  In  those  few  sec- 
onds Blair  was  asking  aid  from  his  heav- 
enly Father  so  to  speak  that  he  might 
have  power  to  move  his  hearers  and 
guide  them  aright. 

"Boys,"  he  began,  "boys,  I  want  to 
be  your  captain.  I  do  n't  want  to  give 
up  the  Fairport  Guard.  We  have  had 
many  a  good  time  together,  and  I  love 
you  all ;  yes,  every  one.  Our  marching 
and  drilling  has  hitherto  been  play,  but 
now  we  ought  to  be  in  earnest.  We 
should  prepare  to  be  really  a  guard  to 
our  native  town.  At  any  moment  the 


BLAIR'S   COMPANY.  51 

British  ma}7"  land  on  our  shores,  and 
threaten  the  lives  of  those  who  are  dear- 
est to  us.  We  must  be  able  to  protect 
our  mothers  and  sisters  if  the  evil  day 
comes.  We  must  learn  the  use  of  fire- 
arms. This  musket  did  duty  at  Bunker 
Hill.  Every  young  patriot  here  must 
learn  to  use  it  well.  In  due  time  we 
must  each  have  our  musket,  and  make 
it  carry  true,  if  need  be,  to  the  heart  of 
the  enemy.  But,  boys,  if  we  are  to  be 
real  defenders  of  our  native  land,  we 
must  be  worthy  of  such  an  honor.  I  am 
willing,  I  want  to  be  your  captain ;  but 
hear  the  rules  I  propose  for  our  com- 
pany :  We  are  to  be  a  temperance  band ; 
no  drop  of  the  cup  that  intoxicates  must 
pass  our  lips.  No  profane  word  must 
sully  our  tongues.  The  name  of  the  God 
of  our  fathers  must  be  honored  among 
us.  Any  member  of  this  company  who 
shall  be  found  guilty  of  a  lie,  a  theft,  or 


52  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

bullying  the  weak  and  defenceless,  shall 
be  cast  out  by  common  vote.  We  will 
strive  to  be  a  credit  to  our  beloved 
home — true  American  citizens,  who  may 
dare  to  ask  God  to  bless  them  in  all  their 
undertakings  and  prosper  all  they  do. 
Boys,  do  you  agree  to  these  regulations? 
If  so,  I  shall  rejoice  to  be  your  captain. 
If  not,  I  must  sadly  bid  adieu  to  the 
Fairport  Guard,  and  with  this  time-hon- 
ored musket  in  my  hand,  stand  alone  on 
the  threshold  of  my  home  in  the  hour 
of  danger,  trusting  in  God  and  in  the 
strength  of  this  single  right-arm." 

As  Blair  concluded,  he  grounded  his 
musket,  and  stood  silently  awaiting  the 
reply  of  his  companions. 

There  was  a  moment  of  hesitation; 
then  one  of  the  older  boys,  the  first-lieu- 
tenant, stepped  forward  and  silently 
placed  himself  at  the  side  of  his  young 
commander.  In  true  martial  style  the 


BLAIR'S   COMPANY.  53 

whole  company  followed,  arraying  them- 
selves around  their  leader. 

"  We  agree !  We  agree !  We  agree 
to  every  thing !"  shouted  one  and  all. 

"  May  God  help  us  to  keep  to  our 
compact,"  said  Blair.  Then,  after  a 
short  pause,  he  added,  "Let  me  propose 
to  you  a  new  member  for  our  company — 
my  friend  Hal  Hutchings,  who,  born  on 
English  soil,  is  yet  a  true  American  at 
heart.  Let  all  in  favor  of  his  admission 
say  Aye." 

Hal  had  been  striving  to  give  himself 
a  military  air  by  appearing  in  his  red 
flannel  shirt  and  trousers,  while  Old 
Jock's  red  night-cap  was  perched  above 
the  yellow  curls  of  the  boy.  As  his 
name  was  mentioned,  he  raised  to  his 
shoulder  a  borrowed  crutch  which  serv- 
ed him  for  a  musket,  as  if  to  signify  his 
readiness  for  martial  duty. 

"  The  English  boy!     Admit  the  Eng- 


54  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

lish  boy!"  said  several  voices;  but  a 
hearty  "Aye,  aye"  from  two  or  three 
prominent  members  of  the  company  de- 
cided the  question  in  Hal's  favor,  and  he 
was  admitted  at  once  by  general  con- 
sent. 

Forming  now  in  regular  ranks,  the 
Fairport  Guard  went  through  their  usual 
drill,  and  then  set  off  in  a  creditable 
march,  to  let  the  citizens  have  a  view  of 
their  doughty  defenders. 


A   PILOT.  55 

CHAPTER  VI. 

A  PILOT. 

IT  is  strange  that  the  moon  generally 
has  all  the  blame  for  fickleness,  when  the 
sun  quite  as  often  hides  his  face  without 
sufficient  warning.  The  Fairport  Guard 
had  hardly  made  the  circuit  of  the  town, 
before  the  late  smiling  sky  was  overcast 
by  dark  hurrying  clouds,  and  the  weath- 
erwise  began  to  predict  a  coming  storm, 
which  was  to  be  "  no  joke  on  sea  or  land." 

Luckless  members  of  the  Fairport 
Guard  who  had  not  had  the  precaution 
to  tie  on  their  head-gear,  might  be  seen 
breaking  rank  and  running  indecorously 
in  various  directions  in  pursuit  of  hat  or 
cap,  while  the  skirts  of  the  captain's 
time-honored  coat  flapped  in  the  wind, 
like  the  signal  of  a  ship  in  distress. 


56  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

It  was  in  the  endeavor  to  complete 
their  usual  tour,  by  passing  along  the 
wharf,  that  this  military  body  was  sub- 
jected to  this  attack  from  old  Boreas. 
Worse  confusion,  however,  soon  broke 
up  all  order  among  them.  A  group  of 
men  on  the  wharf  had  been  for  some 
time  looking  at  a  ship  nearing  the  har- 
bor. They  could  not  make  her  oat,  they 
said.  She  was  a  stranger  in  those  wa- 
ters, and  yet  bore  the  American  flag. 
She  seemed  a  man-of-war,  and  was  evi- 
dently signalling  for  a  pilot. 

Fairport  harbor,  smooth  and  safe  as 
it  was,  cradled  among  the  overhanging 
cliffs,  had  a  guard  at  its  entrance  which 
no  stranger  might  defy.  Its  deep  nar- 
row channel  went  winding  among  hidden 
rocks,  and  woe  betide  the  keel  that  ven- 
tured a  dozen  yards  from  its  appointed 
path. 

For  thirty  years  Joe  Robertson  had 


A   PILOT.  57 

been  the  pilot  of  Fairport,  and  was  as 
well  known  to  the  frequenters  of  that 
harbor  as  was  the  tall  spire  which  was 
the  pride  of  the  town.  The  sound  of  war 
had,  however,  roused  within  him  the 
spirit  of  his  father  of  Revolutionary 
memory.  He  declared  he  would  not 
have  it  said  that  Joe  Robertson  was  con- 
tent to  play  door-keeper  to  the  harbor 
of  Fairport,  while  brave  men  were  shed- 
ding their  blood  for  the  country,  as  dear 
to  him  as  to  them.  Joe's  enthusiasm  was 
contagious.  It  spread  through  all  Fair- 
port,  and  there  was  hardly  a  man  who 
could  bear  arms  on  sea  or  land  who  was 
not  off  at  his  country's  bidding. 

Old  Jock,  who  had  had  one  leg  bitten 
off  by  a  shark,  men  who  had  been  crip- 
pled by  a  fall  from  mainmast  or  yard, 
and  sickly  sailors,  worn  out  by  the  fe- 
vers of  southern  ports,  were  left  at 
home  to  keep  company  with  the  few 


58  THE   BOY  PATRIOT. 

true  landsmen,  the  shopmen  of  the 
town. 

Old  Jock  had  been  content  to  serve  as 
pilot  since  the  departure  of  Joe,  and  well 
he  knew  the  channel ;  but  he  seemed  to 
have  grown  lazy,  or  particularly  careful 
of  himself,  since  Hal  had  come  under  his 
roof.  Now  he  positively  refused  to  go 
to  the  vessel  in  the  offing.  He  plainly 
expressed  his  doubts  as  to  what  kind  of 
a  craft  she  was,  and  moreover  declared 
that  such  a  squall  as  was  coming  up  was 
"not  to  be  risked  by  any  man  in  his 
senses,  even  if  that  old  ship  went  to  the 
bottom  with  every  soul  in  her." 

Blair  listened  intently  to  this  conver- 
sation. Too  many  times  had  he  been  to 
and  fro  with  his  father  in  his  pilot's  duty 
not  to  know  well  the  dangerous  channel. 
Every  crook  and  turn  in  it  was  as  famil- 
iar to  him  as  the  windings  of  the  little 
path  in  his  mother's  flower-garden.  The 


A  PILOT.  59 

boy  stood  erect  with  growing  determina- 
tion as  the  speakers  went  on. 

"She  makes  for  the  shore.  She'll 
surely  run  on  the  rocks  if  a  pilot  do  n't 
go  to  her.  If  Joe  Robertson  were  only 
'here.  What  business  had  a  man  of  his 
age  going  off  to  the  war,  instead  of  stay- 
ing to  look  after  the  harbor  of  his  own 
town  ?" 

"He  has  left  his  son  to  take  his  place," 
said  Blair  quickly.  "I  know  the  chan- 
nel. I  am  not  afraid.  I  will  just  speak 
to  ray  mother,  and  then  I  'm  off." 

In  a  few  hurried  words  the  son  told 
his  design  to  the  mother  who  understood 
him  so  well.  "May  I  go?"  he  added; 
"  I  know  you  will  not  refuse." 

The  mother's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as 
she  spoke.  "I  will  not  keep  you,  my 
noble  boy.  God  bless  and  watch  over 
you.  The  true  Christian,  like  his  Mas- 
ter, takes  his  life  in  his  hand,  and  goes 


60  -  THE   BOY   PATKIOT. 

forth  at  the  call  of  duty.  The  true  pa- 
triot will  risk  all  for  his  dear  country- 
men.' Go.  My  prayers  shall  be  around 
you  like  a  guard." 

When  Blair  returned  to  the  wharf  it 
was  with  his  mother  at  his  side.  The 
little  pilot-boat  had  been  made  ready. 
As  he  jumped  into  it,  another  figure 
quickly  followed  him.  It  was  Hal  Hutch- 
ings.  "I  must  go  with  you,"  he  said 
with  determination.  "I  can  manage  a 
boat.  I  sha'n't  be  in  the  way.  I  could  n't 
stand  it  to  wait  on  the  shore.  May-be 
two  of  us  will  be  needed." 

Blair  gave  Hal  one  cordial  grasp  of 
the  hand,  then  hoisted  his  bit  of  a  sail, 
and  soon  over  the  wild  waves  the  two 
boys  took  their  course  together. 

"  God  help  that  Blair  Robertson.  He 
has  the  making  of  the  right  kind  of  a 
man  in  him,"  exclaimed  a  bystander. 

"He 's  our  captain,  Blair  is,"  said  one 


A   PILOT.  61 

of  the  youngest  members  of  the  Fairport 
Guard. 

"Who  would  have  thought  of  Hal's 
making  such  a  venture?"  said  Old  Jock. 
"He's  a  little  skeary  about  water  yet. 
But  I  believe  he  'd  die  for  Blair  Robert- 
son. Whatever  takes  hold  of  that  Hal 
Hutchings  takes  him  strong." 

The  mother's  eye  followed  the  little 
boat  as  it  went  dancing  over  the  waves, 
but  her  heart  was  uplifted  in  silent 
prayer. 


62  -THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

CHAPTER  YII. 

NO! 

THE  pilot-boat  was  nearing  the  strange 
vessel,  when  Blair  suddenly  exclaimed, 
"I  see  British  uniforms  on  board.  "VYe 
have  been  tricked  by  that  flag  falsely 
displayed.  It  is  an  English  man-of-war. 
Put  about.  We  '11  pilot  no  such  vessel 
into  Fairport." 

Quick  as  thought  the  little  boat  had 
turned  its  head,  and  was  making  tow- 
ards the  shore.  The  movement  was  not 
unperceived  on  board  the  man-of-war, 
and  its  cause  was  at  once  understood. 
A  boat,  manned  by  a  dozen  strong  row- 
ers, had  been  made  ready  for  such  an 
emergency.  They  were  quickly  in  pur- 
suit of  the  retreating  pilot.  They  gained 
rapidly  upon  the  boys,  and  were  soon 


NO!  63 

alongside,  commanding  Blair  to  surren- 
der, while  half  a  dozen  muskets  were 
aimed  at  the  brave  lads. 

"Fire!  Do  your  worst!  I  am  not 
afraid  to  die!"  sprang  to  the  lips  of  Blair 
Robertson ;  but  he  thought  of  his  mother, 
and  was  silent.  He  had  no  right  so  to 
throw  away  the  life  of  her  only  son. 

"Surrender,  or  we  shall  fire,"  was 
again  repeated. 

"  A  couple  of  unarmed  boys,  decoyed 
within  your  reach,  would  be  a  worthy 
mark  for  your  treacherous  British  mus- 
kets," said  Blair  boldly.  "  I  would  dare 
you  to  fire,  but  there  are  those  at  home 
who  would  miss  us  too  much.  Do  what 
you  will  with  us ;  we  are  your  prisoners." 

The  British  tars  handled  their  captives 
without  ceremony,  and  hurried  them  at 
once  on  board  the  man-of-war  and  pre- 
sented them  before  its  impatient  com- 
mander. 


64  THE    BOY    PATKIOT. 

Not  a  little  surprised  at  the  grotesque 
appearance  of  the  prisoners,  he  exclaim- 
ed in  astonishment,  "Who  and  what  are 
you  ?" 

"I  am  a  Yankee  boy,  the  captain  of 
the  Fairport  Guard,"  said  Blair  frankly. 
"We  had  been  parading,  when  your  sig- 
nal for  a  pilot  called  me  too  suddenly 
away  for  me  to  have  time  to  lay  aside 
this  dress,  this  coat  which  my  grandfa- 
ther wore  at  Bunker  Hill" 

A  strong  emphasis  was  laid  on  the  last 
word  of  the  sentence. 

"  You  young  rascal !"  exclaimed  the 
commander.  "And  who  is  this  Tom-fool 
of  a  companion  ?" 

"  It  is  my  friend,  and  one  of  our  com- 
pany. He  would  not  see  me  risking  my 
life  on  the  water  while  he  stood  on  the 
shore.  Would  that  we  had  many  such 
'Tom-fools/  with  brave,  strong  hearts 
like  his." 


NO!  65 

As  Blair  spoke,  he  took  off  his  official 
cap  and  left  his  noble  young  head  bare. 
With  another  movement  the  precious 
coat  was  thrown  over  his  arm,  and  the 
stripling  stood  in  his  school-boy  dress 
before  the  English  commander,  who  ex- 
claimed, "A  pretty  pilot,  you.  Who 
sent  you  on  this  mad  errand?" 

"My  father  has  been  for  thirty  years 
the  pilot  of  Fairport.  He  is  now  absent 
fighting  for  his  country  against  her  op- 
pressors. I  know  the  channel  well.  No 
one  of  our  few  remaining  men  would  ven- 
ture his  life  in  such  a  sea  for  an  unknown 
vessel,  and  so  I  came.  I  knew  it  would 
be  certain  death  for  you  to  try  to  enter 
that  harbor  without  a  pilot." 

"Then  do  your  duty,  young  malapert. 
There  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  We  ?11  run 
up  the  British  flag,  and  go  into  port  un- 
der fair  colors." 

The  commander  gave  'the  necessary 


Young  Patriot. 


66  THE   BOY   PATEIOT. 

orders  to  have  the  last  suggestion  car- 
ried out,  and  the  sailors  were  prompt  to 
do  his  bidding. 

Blair  stood  perfectly  still,  while  a  look 
of  stern  determination  sat  on  his  young 
face.  "I  will  never  pilot  enemies  to  the 
shores  of  our  land.  You  can  shoot  me, 
but  you  cannot  force  me  to  -act  the 
traitor." 

The  boy  spoke  resolutely.  The  Eng- 
lish commander  eyed  him  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said  quickly, 

"  Shooting  is  too  good  for  you,  young 
dare-devil.  That  is  quick  work,  soon 
over.  There  are  other  means  of  bring- 
ing you  to  terms." 

The  commander  held  in  his  hand  a 
thick  pamphlet  in  which  he  had  been 
reading.  He  made  it  into  a  firm  scroll, 
and  placed  it  upon  the  edge  of  the  rail- 
ing near  which  he  was  standing.  Then 
turning  to  one  of  the  sailors,  he  said, 


NO!  67 

"  Here,  let  me  see  you  cut  that  through 
with  your  knife.  Be  quick." 

The  man  drew  the  long  knife  from  hia 
belt,  and  with  one  sweeping  stroke  sev- 
ered the  thick  scroll.  One  part  went 
fluttering  through  the  air  and  dropped 
in  the  angry  waters,  while  the  other  was 
firmly  held  by  the  commander. 

"Put  young  master's  right-hand  in  the 
same  place,  and  we  will  see  it  food  for 
fishes.  Or  will  he  choose  to  do  his  duty, 
and  keep  his  precious  five  fingers  for 
future  use?" 

The  words  had  hardly  passed  from  the 
lips  of  the  British  officer,  when  Blair  laid 
his  hand  calmly  on  the  railing,  and  ex- 
claimed, "Now,  God  helping  me,  you 
may  tear  me  limb  from  limb,  and  I  will 
be  true  to  my  country  and  my  home." 

"It's  no  use.  He'll  keep  his  word. 
You  can't  force  'im,"  shouted  Hal  Hutch- 
ings,  the  tears  coursing  down  his  cheeks. 


68  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

The  wild  winds  swept  through  the  rig- 
ging, and  the  storm  came  on  with  sudden 
violence. 

This  was  no  time  for  contention  with 
such  a  spirit  as  Blair  had  displayed,  and 
the  captain  at  once  gave  orders  to  make 
for  the  open  sea,  where  he  might  the 
more  safely  abide  the  approaching  tem- 
pest. The  Fairport  channel  had  been 
strewn  with  too  many  wrecks  to  be 
ventured  without  a  careful  pilot,  and  of 
that  the  English  captain  had  been  fully 
warned. 

Blair  and  Hal  were  hastily  thrust  be- 
low, while  rapid  preparations  were  made 
to  meet  the  coming  hour  of  danger. 


THE   STOEM.  69 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    STOEM. 

THE  place  in  which  Blair  and  his  com- 
panion found  themselves  was  a  small 
strongly  built  closet,  used  as  a  "lock-up" 
for  refractory  sailors.  A  single  bull's- 
eye  admitted  a  mere  glimmer  of  light  for 
a  while,  but  that  soon  died  away  in  utter 
darkness  as  the  night  came  rapidly  on. 
It  was  well  for  the  boys  that  they  knew 
something  of  ocean's  rough  rocking.  A 
land-lubber  would  have  had  all  the  mis- 
eries of  sea-sickness  added  to  the  hor- 
rors of  that  dreary  dungeon. 

A  new  exaltation  of  spirit  had  come 
over  Blair.  Difficulties  and  dangers 
seemed  as  nothing  to  him  while  in  the 
path  of  duty.  He  feared  neither  the 
raging  elements  nor  the  power  of  angry 


10  THE   BOY    PATEIOT. 

enemies.  He  had  the  promise  that  those 
who  trust  in  God  shall  never  be  moved, 
and  in  this  strong  refuge  he  was  safe. 

Not  so  with  poor  Hal.  The  dread  of 
death  had  seized  him,  and  absorbed  all 
other  thoughts.  He  could  not  but  think 
of  the  horrors  into  which  he  should  be 
plunged  if  he  suddenly  found  a  watery 
grave.  Prayer  seemed  impossible  for 
him,  as  in  a  kind  of  agonized  waiting  he 
met  every  plunge  and  reel  of  the  storm- 
tossed  ship. 

Ah,  the  time  of  peril  is  not  the  best 
time  to  make  one's  peace  with  God. 
When  heart  and  flesh  fail,  the  soul 
shrinks  in  dismay  before  its  coming 
doom.  Even  the  wild  prayers  for  de- 
liverance which  may  burst  from  the  af- 
frighted soul,  what  will  they  avail  at  the 
judgment?  Are  they  the  cries  of  the 
contrite  heart  mourning  for  its  sins 
against  a  holy,  loving,  and  beneficent 


THE    STORM.  U 

heavenly  Father  ?  Are  they  not  rather 
but  as  the  shrieks  of  the  criminal  who 
sees  no  escape  from  his  merited  retribu- 
tion ?  Alas  for  him  who  postpones  his 
day  of  repentance  till  face  to  face  with 
the  king  of  terrors.  It  is  he  only  who 
is  strong  in  his  great  Deliverer  who  can 
see  that  icy  beckoning  hand,  and  amid 
the  shrinking  of  human  nature  find  him- 
self calm  in  the  strength  which  only  God 
supplies.  If  the  agonies  or  the  stupor 
of  the  sick-bed  unfit  the  soul  to  seek 
peace  with  God  in  the  dying  hour,  even 
so  does  the  anguish  of  such  fear  as  now 
bowed  poor  Hal  to  the  earth. 

As  the  English  lad  crouched  in  his  ter- 
ror, Blair  knelt  at  his  side  and  prayed 
earnestly  for  him  to  that  God  who  seem- 
ed to  the  young  Christian  but  the  more 
surely  at  hand,  for  the  tokens  of  his 
power  that  made  that  mighty  ship  quiver 
like  a  leaf  in  the  autumn  wind. 


72  THE   BOY    PATRIOT. 

Worn  out  with  the  excess  of  his  own 
strong  emotion,  Hal  at  length  sank  into 
a  deep  slumber,  and  rolled  and  tossed 
with  the  vessel  like  a  lifeless  thing. 
Blair  feared  the  poor  boy  had  actually 
died  of  terror;  but  he  soon  convinced 
himself  that  there  was  yet  motion  in  that 
heart  which  had  throbbed  so  truly  for 
him. 

There  was  no  sleep  for  Blair  dur- 
ing that  long  wild  night.  In  the  inten- 
sity of  his  excitement,  his  thoughts  flew 
through  his  mind  with  a  vividness  and  a 
swiftness  that  made  him  almost  feel  that 
he  was  tasting  a  new  and  higher  kind  of 
existence.  Spiritual  things  were  as  real 
to  him  as  his  own  identity,  and  the  God 
in  whom  he  trusted  seemed  at  his  side 
as  a  familiar  friend.  Of  his  mother 
too  he  could  think  without  a  tear.  He 
was  sure  that  if  left  childless,  she  would 
be  comforted  and  sustained  and  gently 


THE   STOKM.  73 

led  along  her  lonely  pathway.  Had  he 
not  been  fulfilling  her  oft-repeated  coun- 
sel, to  fear  nothing  but  sin  ?  Had  he  not 
vindicated  that  love  of  his  native  land, 
which  she  had  taught  him  should  be  next 
to  his  allegiance  to  G-od  ?  She  might 
never  know  his  fate.  Yet  she  would 
mourn  for  him  as  for  one  who  died  in 
his  effort  to  fulfil  the  duties  of  his  absent 
father,  and  risked  his  own  life  to  save  the 
human  freight  of  a  ship  from  wreck  and 
sure  destruction. 

Daylight  brought  but  a  feeble  glimmer 
to  Blair's  dark  prison-house,  yet  he  wel- 
comed it  as  the  assurance  of  dawn — dawn 
which  is  ever  welcome  to  the  watcher, 
though  it  may  usher  in  a  day  of  double 
danger. 


74  THE    BOY   PATKIOT. 

CHAPTEE IX. 

A  KEWAKD. 

HAL  was  still  in  the  deep  sleep  into 
which  he  had  fallen,  when  the  bolts  of 
their  place  of  confinement  were  with- 
drawn. Blair's  clear  bright  eyes  looked 
full  in  the  face  of  the  English  command- 
er, who  now  stood  before  him. 

"Give  me  your  hand,  my  boy,"  said 
the  captain.  "I  can  respect  bravery 
wherever  I  find  it.  I  honor  you  for  your 
determined  courage.  Tell  me,  who  taught 
you  so  to  love  your  country?" 

Blair's  hand  still  hung  at  his  side  as 
he  answered,  "My  mother,  sir;  the  best 
of  mothers.  She  would  rather  have  me 
die  in  the  right  cause,  than  live  a  traitor." 

"You  will  not  give  me  your  hand? 
Perhaps  I  do  not  deserve  it  j  but  it  was 


A   REWARD.  75 

not  cruelty  which  prompted  me  to  act  as 
I  did  last  evening.  I  felt  our  danger, 
and  scrupled  not  to  use  any  means  which 
should  bring  you  to  terms.  Your  con- 
stancy triumphed.  I  knew  that  no  threats 
could  force  such  a  spirit.  You  shall  not 
lose  your  reward,  in  the  knowledge  of  the 
service  you  have  done  your  home  and 
your  kindred.  My  orders  were  to  get 
into  the  harbor  of  Fairport,  to  take  pos- 
session of  the  naval  stores  there  belong- 
ing to  privateersmen,  and  then  to  reduce 
the  town  to  ashes." 

For. the  first  time  Blair's  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  and  his  chest  swelled  with 
strong  emotion  as  he  exclaimed,  "Thank 
God,  I  have  been  able  to  be  useful  to 
my  country  and  my  home.  This  will  fill 
my  mother's  heart  with  joy.  To  her  I 
owe  all  in  me  that  is  worthy  of  praise." 

"I  believe  I  can  trust  you,  my  lad," 
said  the  captain.  "  I  would  not  willingly 


76  THE   BOY   PATKIOT. 

have  my  name  go  out  as  one  who  would 
maim  and  torture  a  brave  lad.  My  des- 
peration is  my  excuse  for  my  expedient 
of  last  evening.  I  want  you  to  promise 
to  keep  that  scene  a  secret.  You  may 
perchance  some  day  have  your  own  sins 
to  cover.  I  have  been  reckoned  brave 
and  honorable,  and  I  would  not  have  my 
fair  name  tarnished.  Will  you  promise?7' 

"I  forgive  you  from  my  heart.  I 
promise,"  said  Blair,  frankly  extending 
his  hand. 

"Such  a  mother  as  yours  can  be  trust- 
ed," said  the  English  commander,  warm- 
ly grasping  the  offered  hand.  "She  must 
know  how  her  son  did  her  honor  in  his 
hour  of  danger.  Tell  her  the  story,  but 
let  her  keep  it  to  herself.  The  true  pa- 
triot, my  boy,  is  willing  to  suffer  for  his 
country,  though  he  win  no  glory  from  his 
sufferings.  Are  you  equal  to  such  a  sac- 
rifice ?" 


A    KEWAKD.  17 

"  I  own  I  should  like  to  be  known  as 
one  who  had  done  something  for  his  na- 
tive land,"  said  Blair;  "but  it  will  do 
me  good,  and  make  me  the  purer  patriot, 
I  trust,  to  have  only  my  mother's  praise, 
if  we  ever  meet  again." 

"  You  shall  be  released  at  the  earliest 
opportunity;  but  this  your  companion 
must  stay  with  us.  I  wish  he  was  of  the 
stuff  that  3rou  are.  We  would  make  a 
British  tar  of  him,  who  would  do  us  hon- 
or. His  tongue  tells  the  story  of  his 
birth,  even  if  we  could  doubt  the  witness 
of  his  Saxon  eyes  and  hair." 

"He  chose  to  be  an  American.  He 
worked  his  way  to  a  home  with  us,  and 
to  us  he  ought  to  belong,"  said  Blair 
boldly. 

"  He  is  English,  unnaturalized  of 
course,  as  he  is  under  age.  He  belongs 
to  us  by  all  law.  I  wish  he  were  a  bet- 
ter prey,"  said  the  captain. 


78  THE    BOY   PATEIOT. 

"You  do  Hal  Hutchings  injustice.  A 
truer  heart  never  throbbed.  Timid  as 
he  is,  he  ventured  with  me  in  the  boat 
because  he  would  not  see  me  go  alone. 
Let  him  once  love  his  duty  as  he  loves 
me,  and  there  will  be  no  post  of  danger 
from  which  he  will  shrink." 

Blair's  eyes  flashed  and  his  cheek 
glowed  as  he  spoke. 

"He  shall  be  kindly  cared  for.  We 
will  make  the  best  of  what  is  in  him. 
You  are  both  free  to  go  your  way  on 
board  the  ship.  There  is  no  chance  of 
escape  where  we  now  are.  You  will  see 
how  our  good  vessel  has  suffered  by  the 
storm.  Yet  she  weathered  it  bravely. 
You  shall  have  food  here  presently,  and 
then  you  are  at  large,  prisoners  on  pa- 
role." 

With  these  words  the  captain  took  his 
leave. 

Blair's  first  impulse,  when  left  alone, 


A   KEWARD.  19 

was  to  throw  himself  on  his  knees  beside 
his  sleeping  companion.  From  the  depths 
of  his  heart  he  thanked  God  for  enabling 
him  to  be  firm  to  his  duty ;  and  earnestly 
he  prayed  that  he  might  be  made  humble 
in  the  midst  of  the  honor  which  had  been 
allowed  him.  For  his  dear  mother  too 
rose  a  fervent  prayer  that  she  might  be 
kept  in  the  hollow  of  her  Maker's  hand 
during  the  absence  of  her  son,  wh<jm  she 
had  striven  to  train  as  a  Christian  pa- 
triot, whose  watchwords  are  ever,  "  God 
and  my  native  land." 


80  THE    BOY    PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  NEW  DECK. 

'  THE  British  vessel  had  indeed  suffered 
much  damage  in  the  fearful  storm.  The 
crashing  and  wrenching  that  had  so  over- 
whelmed poor  Hal  with  terror,  had  been 
the  destruction  of  mast  and  yard  and  bul- 
wark. Yet,  though  sorely  dismantled, 
the  good  ship  was  able  to  keep  bravely 
on  her  way. 

She  had  been  several  days  heading  for 
the  distant  shores  of  England,  alone  on 
the  wide  ocean,  which  like  a  sulky  child 
bore  the  marks  of  its  late  outburst  of 
passion  long  after  the  sky  above  was  all 
smiles  and  sunshine. 

The  appearance  of  three  sails  along 
the  far  horizon  caught  the  captain's  wary 
eye.  That  they  were  Americans  he  did 


A   NEW   DECK.  81 

not  doubt — privateers,  against  which  sin- 
gly he  could  have  won  an  easy  victory ; 
but  disabled  as  his  vessel  now  was,  he 
could  not  dare  to  cope  with  such  a  trio. 

They  gained  rapidly  upon  him.  His 
resolution  was  taken  at  once.  He  wrote 
a  fewjines  hastily,  sealed  them,  and  sum- 
moned Blair  to  his  side.  "My  boy,"  he 
said,  "I  want  to  send  you  on  a  danger- 
ous mission.  Dare  you  trust  yourself  in 
your  boat  upon  the  sea,  chafing  as  it  still 
is  from  the  late  storm  ?  I  want  a  mes- 
senger to  send  to  yonder  craft  so  swiftly 
Hearing  us.  Dare  you  go?  Your  cour- 
age shall  set  you  free." 

"  I  will  go.  God  will  watch  over  me, 
and  bring  me  safe  to  my  mother,"  said 
Blair  promptly. 

A  few  words  of  affectionate  parting 
with  Hal,  and  then  Blair  was  again  a 
free  boy,  the  sky  above  and  the  friendly 
waters  below.  Friendly  they  seemed  to 

Young  Patriot.  6 


82  THE    BOY    PATRIOT. 

him  as  lie  sped  over  the  waves  towards 
the  flag  of  his  native  land.  He  did  not 
look  behind  him  to  see  that  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  were  waving  above  the  Brit- 
ish vessel,  run  up  when  she  was  called 
on  to  show  her  colors.  He  did  not  note 
the  fact  that  the  deck  on  which  he  had 
lately  stood  was  fast  passing  from  sight 
while  he  hasted  on  his  errand. 

Two  of  the  privateers  kept  up  their 
chase  of  the  suspicious  craft,  while  the 
other  hove  to,  to  receive  the  message 
which  had  been  signalized  as  in  the 
hands  of  the  boy  in  the  fast  approaching 
boat. 

Blair  stepped  freely  and  gladly  when 
he  was  once  more  among  his  own  dear 
countrymen,  and  it  was  with  a  beaming 
face  that  he  presented  his  sealed  note  to 
the  captain  of  the  "Molly." 

The  note  was  as  follows:  "We  send 

V 

you  herewith  an  American  boy,  by  chance 


A   NEW   DECK.  83 

our  prisoner.  We  trust  that  the  gaining 
of  such  an  addition  to  your  crew  will 
make  amends  for  the  loss  of  the  British 
property  which  this  delay  gives  us  a 
chance  to  carry  off  in  safety." 

The  captain  of  the  Molly  read  these 
few  words  at  a  glance  ;  then  stamping 
his  foot,  he  exclaimed,  "You  young  vil- 
lain! American  or  no  American,  you 
shall  suffer  for  this  sneaking  trick.  We  '11 
send  you  back  again  out  of  the  mouth  of 
our  guns,  or  half-way  at  least.  It  is  not 
worth  our  while  to  follow  that  miserable 
cheat.  Those  good  ships  will  take  him 
before  many  hours  are  over.  Yankees 
know  a  British  hull  if  American  colors 
are  flying  over  her." 

Blair  looked  with  astonishment  where, . 
far  over  the  waters,  the  British  man-of- 
war  was  fading  from  sight. 

"It  is  a  shabby  trick,  but  I  was  no 
party  to  it,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  would 


84  THE    BOY    PATRIOT. 

sooner  lose  my  right  hand  than  lift  one 
finger  against  my  countrymen.  I  am  an 
American.  I  am  the  son  of  old  Joe  Rob- 
ertson, the  pilot  of  Fairport.  Perhaps 
you  know  him.  If  you  do,  you  will  be 
sure  that  one  of  his  blood  would  never 
do  dishonor  to  the  Stars  and  Stripes." 

Captain  Knox  of  the  privateer  Molly 
had  never  heard  of  Joe  Robertson ;  but 
his  knowledge  of  the  world  made  him 
see  truth  and  innocence  in  the  face  of 
the  boy.  Blair's  words  came  too  quick- 
ly, and  his  voice  was  pitched  too  high 
for  English  birth,  and  that  the  blunt  cap- 
tain marked  at  once. 

-"  No  matter  who  you  are  or  where  you 
came  from,  if  you  are  all  right  as  to  the 
Stars  and  Stripes,"  said  Captain  Knox. 
"We  do  n't  ask  too  many  questions  here 
as  to  what  folks  have  been  before  they 
come  aboard  the  Molly.  If  you  can  obey 
orders  and  handle  a  rope,  this  is  the 


A   NEW   DECK.  85 

place  for  you  to  make  your  fortune.  Go 
aft,  and  Derry  Duck  our  first-mate  will 
find  something  for  you  to  do  in  short  or- 
der. He  knows  how  to  take  the  stiffness 
out  of  a  fellow's  bones." 

Thus  dismissed,  Blair  mingled  among 
the  sailors  at  the  other  end  of  the  vessel, 
by  no  means  a  welcome  guest.  Muttered 
curses  fell  on  his  ears,  and  more  than  one 
voice  was  heard  to  say,  "  He  ought  to  be 
sunk  forty  fathoms  in  salt  water,  with  a 
hundred  weight  of  lead  at  his  heels." 


THE    BOY    PATEIOT. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"MUM." 

CAPTAIN  KNOX  did  not  set  off  in  pur- 
suit of  the  British  vessel  from  which  Blair 
had  so  unexpectedly  escaped.  Our  young 
sailor  soon  learned  that  the  "Molly"  was 
on  the  look-out  for  richer  prey,  in  the 
shape  of  an  East  Indiaman,  whose  costly 
cargo  was  expected  to  prove  a  gold  mine 
for  captain  and  crew. 

The  love  of  adventure  and  the  lust  for 
gold  seemed  uppermost  in  the  minds  of 
Blair's  new  companions.  The  Fairport 
boy  was  not  long  in  discovering  that 
there  was  about  as  little  Christian  patri- 
otism on  board  the  JMolly,  as  there  is 
verdure  in  Sahara.  In  the  freedom  of 
the  mess-table,  the  late  achievements  of 


"MUM."  87 

the  crew  were  the  occasion  of  many  a 
11  yarn,"  and  of  many  a  fierce  discussion 
as  to  who  had  been  the  boldest  and  most 
reckless  in  the  excitement  of  attack  and 
victory.  It  was  plain  that  the  crew  of 
the  Molly  were  little  better  than  a  den 
of  thieves,  their  whole  thought  being  of 
plunder,  their  whole  ambition  the  win- 
ning of  gold.  Blair  blushed  for  the  honor 
of  his  country,  to  find  such  men  among 
her  avowed  defenders.  Oaths  and  ob- 
scenity made  even  more  hateful  the  rough 
narratives  in  which  each  strove  to  prove 
himself  more  hardened  and  abandoned 
than  the  last  speaker."  Blair's  soul  re- 
coiled with  horror  from  the  taint  of  such 
companionship  ;  yet  for  him  there  was 
no  escape.  Among  these  coarse  rovers 
he  was  forced  to  eat  and  sleep,  to  live 
and  labor,  while  many  weeks  went  by. 

The  youngest  on  board,  he  was  at  the 
beck  and  call  of  these  rough  men,  who 


88  THE    BOY    PATRIOT. 

made  his  body  as  weary  of  doing  their 
bidding  as  his  soul  of  their  words  of  wick- 
edness. JL  deep,  hearty  hatred  of  the 
crew  of  the  Molly  took  possession  of  Blair 
Robertson.  He  wondered  that  a  benev- 
olent Providence  should  have  placed  a 
Christian  boy  in  the  midst  of  the  pollu- 
tion of  such  associates,  and  subject  to  the 
martyrdom  of  hearing  their  daily  talk. 
A  cold  and  haughty  silence  was  Blair's 
defence  against  their  scolding  and  their 
railing.  With  a  feeling  of  conscious  su- 
periority he  moved  among  them,  desir- 
ing their  praise  even  less  than  their  per- 
secution. 

The  names  of  the  crew  of  the  Molly 
were  as  unattractive  as  their  appearance 
and  manners.  These  soubriquets  spoke 
not  of  pious  parents  who  had  given  their 
children  to  God,  with  a  Christian  name 
which  they  trusted  would  be  registered 
in  heaven.  Thev  told  rather  of  lawless 


"MUM."  89 

lives,  and  a  past  which  must  be  bur- 
ied in  oblivion  or  acknowledged  with 
shame  and  perhaps  fear.  "Fighting- 
cock,"  "Torpedo,"  "Brimstone,"  and 
"  the  Slasher,"  were  among  the  leaders 
who  dubbed  Blair  with  the  title  of 
"Mum,"  and  so  saluted  him  on  all  occa- 
sions. Blair  had  a  very  considerable 
sense  of  his  own  dignity,  and  was  by  no 
means  pleased  with  this  style  of  address. 
Yet  he  showed  his  resentment  by  in- 
creased taciturnity  rather  than  by  words. 
Captain  Knox  and  Derry  Duck  soon 
found  out  that  Blair  Robertson  was  no 
useless  addition  to  the  crew,  and  prompt- 
ly gave  him  his  share  in  the  watch  and 
in  other  duties  which  his  strength  would 
permit. 

The  hours  of  the  watch  were  to  Blair 
the  most  agreeable  he  now  enjoyed.  In 
the  silent  night,  with  the  sea  below  and 
the  sentinel  stars  overhead,  he  could 


90  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

commune  with  God,  undisturbed  by  the 
wickedness  of  man. 

Blair  had  not  been  a  day  on  board 
the  Molly,  when  Torpedo,  a  fiery  young 
Spaniard,  spied  him  reading  his  pocket- 
Testament  in  a  quiet  part  of  the  ship. 
The  book  was  snatched  away  and  flung 
triumphantly  into  the  water,  while  Tor- 
pedo exclaimed  in  bad  English  that  Blair 
should  follow  it  if  he  tried  to  force  any 
of  his  canting  notions  on  the  free  crew  of 
the  privateer.  Well  was  it  for  Blair  that 
his  mind  was  stored  with  chapter  after 
chapter  of  the  precious  volume,  which 
would  otherwise  have  been  to  him  now 
a  sealed  book.  It  surprised  him  to  see 
how  much  of  the  Scriptures  he  could  by 
a  strong  effort  recall,  and  most  consoling 
and  cheering  to  him  were  those  words  of 
peace  and  power. 

In  one  of  these  lonely  watches,  Blair's 
thoughts  turned  to  his  present  compan- 


"MUM."  91 

ions  with  his  usual  loathing.  Suddenly 
there  came  to  him  the  image  of  these 
rough  bad  men  in  their  days  of  baby- 
hood, ere  yet  this  evil  world  had  found 
its  full  response  in  the  evil  within  their 
poor  human  hearts.  He  could  fancy  the 
loving  eye  of  God  on  those  little  ones, 
following  them  along  their  dreary  path- 
way, and  grieving  as  thicker  grew  the 
crust  of  sin  over  .all  that  had  been  pure 
and  childlike,  and  more  and  more  dark 
their  corning  doom.  Blair  realized  for 
the  first  time  the  love  of  God,  the  pure 
and  holy  God,  for  those  wicked  trans- 
gressors of  his  law.  "  Yes,"  he  thought, 
"it  was  while  we  were  yet  sinners  Christ 
died  for  us.  He  came  not  to  call  the 
righteous,  but  sinners  to  repentance. 
Hateful  as  must  have  been  to  Him  the 
atmosphere  of  guilt  and  degradation  in 
this  lower  world,  he  left  his  Father's 
throne  and  came  to  seek  and  to  save 


92  THE    BOY   PATKIOT. 

that  which  was  lost."  Ah,  how  unlike 
the  ministry  of  the  Son  of  man  had  been 
Blair's  proud,  self-exalting,  unloving  de- 
meanor. Perhaps  mercy  for  those  poor 
abandoned  men  had  sent  a  Christian  boy 
to  dwell  among  them  and  show  forth  the 
image  of  his  Master.  With  deep  shame 
Blair  saw  how  unchristian  had  been  his 
thoughts  and  acts  towards  his  uncongen- 
ial associates.  Had  he  not  cherished  the 
very  spirit  of  the  Pharisee,  "Stand  by 
thyself;  I  am  holier  than  thou?"  Blair 
thought  of  his  proud  and  hasty  temper 
and  of  the  many  sins  of  his  boyhood,  and 
meekly  owned  that  but  for  the  loving 
hand  of  God  which  had  hedged  him 
round  against  temptation,  and  planted 
him  in  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  he  might 
have  been  even  worse  than  these  wild 
rovers  of  the  sea.  Earnestly  he  prayed 
that  he  might  so  live  and  love  on  board 
the  Molly,  that  at  least  a  faint  image 


"MUM."  93 

might  be  given  of  the  great  Example, 
who  endured  the  contradiction  of  sin- 
ners, and  for  their  sakes  was  willing  to 
suffer  even  unto  death. 

Shame  and  indignation  that  such  men 
should  profess  to  be  defenders  of  the 
American  flag  had  hitherto  been  a  chill 
to  the  patriotism  of  Blair  Robertson. 
Now  the  thought  struck  him,  that  if  he 
could  but  win  one  of  these  hardy  sailors 
to  be  a  Christian  servant  of  his  country, 
an  honor  to  the  flag  under  which  he  sail- 
ed, not  in  vain  would  a  young  patriot 
have  endured  the  trials  and  temptations 
of  the  "  Molly."  "  But,"  thought  Blair, 
"what  am  I,  single-handed,  against  so 
many  ?  How  can  I  hope  to  bring  a 
blessing  by  the  prayers  of  my  one  heart, 
be  it  ever  so  devoted  ?"  He  remember- 
ed that  the  prayer  of  the  patriot  Moses 
saved  the  hosts  of  the  children  of  Israel 
from  utter  destruction  at  the  hand  of  their 


94  THE    BOY    PATRIOT. 

offended  God.  At  the  prayer  of  Paul, 
the  Ruler  of  the  seas  gave  him  not  only 
his  own  life,  but  the  lives  of  all  that  were 
with  him  in  the  ship.  "  I  cannot,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "hope  to  prevail  like 
these  saints  of  old,  at  least  not  for  my 
own  sake ;  but  the  name  of  Jesus  is  all- 
powerful.  I  will  plead  it  for  the  poor 
wanderers  about  me,  and  God  will  in 
due  time,  I  trust,  prosper  and  bless  my 
efforts." 


THE    FIRST   EFFOET.  95 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  FIRST  EFFORT. 

"I'VE  broken  my  jack-knife,"  said  the 
yellow-headed,  yellow-faced  tar  who  re- 
joiced in  the  nickname  of  Brimstone. 
The  speech  was  accompanied  by  an  oath 
that  chilled  the  very  soul  of  Blair  Rob- 
ertson ;  but  it  was  the  morning  after  the 
watch  which  had  so  changed  his  views 
towards  his  wild  associates,  and  he  at 
once  seized  the  opportunity  to  begin  his 
new  line  of  conduct. 

Blair  had  a  large  many-bladed  Shef- 
field knife,  which  had  been  a  present  to 
his  father  from  an  English  captain.  For 
several  years  it  was  hoarded  as  a  special 
treasure,  and  then  on  a  Christmas-day 
found  its  way  into  the  pocket  of  the  only 
son.  Blair  knew  the  worth  and  temper 


96  THE   BOY   PATKIOT. 

of  every  blade,  and  its  fit  and  appointed 
use.  Not  a  boy  in  Fairport  had  such  a 
knife,  as  had  been  acknowledged  on  all 
hands.  He  had  besides  often  thought  of 
it  as  no  bad  weapon  in  case  of  an  attack 
from  any  of  the  fighting  crew  of  the  Mol- 
ly. "  To  stick  a  man,"  was  in  their  esti- 
mation no  uncommon  occurrence,  judging 
from  the  tales  of  their  adventures,  which 
they  delighted  to  tell. 

"Take  my  knife,  wont  you?  It  is  a 
first-rate  one,"  said  Blair,  handing  over 
his  treasure  as  'freely  as  if  the  sacrifice 
had  cost  him  no  effort. 

Brimstone  opened  his  round  cat-like 
eyes  in  surprise ;  and  then  dropping  the 
knife  into  the  depths  of  his  pocket,  said, 
"Green,  green!  You  expected  to  make 
a  trade  with  me,  I  suppose.  You  can't 
come  it.  I  never  swap." 

"  I  meant  to  make  you  a  present  of  it. 
You  seemed  so  put  out  about  your  knife's 


THE   FIRST   EFFORT.  9T 

breaking,"  said  Blair  pleasantly.  "A 
fellow  does  hate  to  break  his  knife.  An 
English  captain  gave  that  to  my  father 
five  years  ago.  It  has  six  blades." 

Brimstone  took  the  knife  out  of  his 
pocket  and  examined  it  slowly,  opening 
blade  after  blade  with  the  air  of  a  con- 
noisseur. 

"  I  say,  youngster,  it's  a  first-rate  ar- 
ticle. You  meant  a  swap,  now ;  own  up. 
What  did  you  mean  to  ask  me  for  it,  if 
I  'd  been  in  the  humor  ?" 

"There  is  only  one  thing  I  should  like 
to  ask  of  you,"  began  Blair. 

"Ha,  ha!  I  knew  you  meant  a  swap," 
said  Brimstone.  "There's  no  harm  in 
making  a  clean  breast  of  it." 

"I  wanted  to  ask  you  not  to  swear 
those  horrible  oaths.  I  tremble  lest 
God,  whose  great  name  you  blaspheme, 
should  smite  you  dead  with  those  curses 
on  your  lips,"  said  Blair  earnestly. 

Young  Patriot.  1 


98  THE   BOY  PATRIOT. 

Brimstone  had  the  long  blade  of  the 
knife  open.  He  gave  an  angry  thrust  at 
Blair,  which  the  lad  skilfully  avoided, 
but  without  a  shadow  of  fear  in  his  fine 
face.  "  None  of  that  talk,"  exclaimed 
Brimstone.  "We  say  what  we  please 
and  when  we  please  on  board  the  Molly. 
Mum  ?s  the  right  word  for  you.  We 
want  no  parson  just  out  of  petticoats 
here." 

Blair  walked  quietly  away.  His  pre- 
cious knife  was  gone,  and  he  had  per- 
haps but  irritated  and  made  more  un- 
friendly one  of  the  very  men  whom  he 
so  longed  to  influence  for  good.  He  had 
left  himself  without  any  defensive  weap- 
on among  men  who  reckoned  human  life 
as  of  trifling  value.  Yet  Blair  was  not 
discouraged.  He  had  made  a  beginning; 
and  though  roughly  received,  it  was  an 
effort  put  forth  in  a  Christian  spirit,  and 
could  not  be  lost.  With  a  petition  in  his 


THE   FIEST   EFFORT.  99 

heart  for  the  rough  sailor  he  had  just 
quitted,  Blair  went  to  a  quiet  part  of  the 
ship  to  write  a  few  lines  to  his  mother. 
It  seemed  to  him  it  would  be  a  comfort 
to  fancy  himself  in  communication  with 
her,  though  the  letter  might  never  fall 
under  her  dear  eyes.  Yet  that  was  not 
impossible.  There  were  letters  waiting 
already  on  board,  until  they  could  be 
sent  by  some  homeward-bound  craft. 
The  little  mail-bag  might  find  a  timely 
and  trusty  bearer. 

Blair  had  nearly  filled  the  sheet  be- 
fore him,  unconscious  of  any  observers. 
The  vessel  lay  becalmed,  scarcely  mov- 
ing on  the  quiet  waters,  and  the  men  had 
been  stretched  lazily  about,  or  leisurely 
mending  sails,  or  washing  their  clothing 
in  true  sailors'  fashion.  Drawn  on  by 
Brimstone's  beckoning  finger,  a  group 
had  silently  gathered  round  Blair,  ready 
for  any  wild  frolic  at  the  boy's  expense 


100  THE    BOY   PATEIOT. 

which  their  summoner  might  have  in  his 
unscrupulous  brain. 

Just  as  Blair  put  the  signature  to  his 
letter,  the  paper  was  snatched  from  his 
hand  by  some  one  from  behind. 

"Now  hear,  worshipful  shipmates," 
said  Brimstone,  making  as  if  he  would 
read  the  letter  aloud. 

"You  don't  know  your  alphabet," 
said  Derry  Duck  contemptuously.  "I 
am  the  scholard  for  you;  but  I  choose 
to  let  the  writer  do  his  own  reading. 
Here,  Mum,  let  us  have  the  benefit  of 
your  long- tailed  letter  in  plain  English, 
stops  put  in  all  right." 

Blair's  eyes  flashed  for  a  moment,  but 
the  next  he  put  out  his  hand  for  the  let- 
ter, and  said  pleasantly,  "Do  you  really 
want  to  know  how  a  Yankee  boy  writes 
home  to  his  mother  ?  Well,  then,  I  '11 
read  every  word  out,  just  as  it  is  writ- 
ten." 


THE   FIKST   EFFOET.  101 

The  tones  of  Blair's  voice  were  clear 
and  firm  as  he  read  as  follows : 

"DEAR  MOTHER — I  always  thought  I 
loved  you,  but  I  never  half  knew  what 
you  were  to  me  before.  I  think  of  you 
by  day,  and  dream  of  you  by  night." 

"  I  should  think  he  was  writing  to  his 
sweetheart,"  said  Brimstone  with  a  coarse 
laugh. 

"Silence,"  shouted  Deny  Duck  in  a 
tone  of  command.  "  Go  on,  boy." 

Blair  resumed.  "I  am  on  board  the 
'Molly,'  Captain  Knox,  an  American 
privateer,  safe  and  sound,  in  full  health 
and  fair  spirits,  thanks  to  the  good  God 
who  has  watched  over  me.  It  would  be 
a  long  story  to  tell  you  how  I  came  here ; 
that  I  will  reserve  till  we  meet.  "When 
the  British  commander  found  he  could 
not  make  me  pilot  him  into  Fairport,  he 
put  for  the  open  sea,  and  there  we  took 
the  gale.  A  real  tear-away  it  was,  and 


102  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

raked  the  old  ship  well-nigh  clean  from 
stem  to  stern;  but  they  rigged  her  up 
again,  and  had  her  skimming  the  seas 
like  a  duck  before  two  days  were  over. 
I  had  to  leave  Hal  Hutchings  on  board 
of  her ;  they  claimed  him  for  an  English 
subject.  It  was  like  losing  my  eyes  to 
part  with  him. 

"I  never  thought  to  see  such  danger 
as  has  fallen  to  my  lot  since  I  kissed  you 
good-by,  dear  mother ;  but  my  heart  has 
never  failed  me.  God  has  sustained  me 
in  every  hour  of  trial,  and  I  trust  him 
for  all  that  is  before  me,  be  it  danger  or 
temptation  or  death.  He  is  all-power- 
ful. In  his  strength  I  shall  come  off 
conqueror.  He  spread  this  smiling  sky 
above  me.  He  measured  these  limitless 
waters  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  He 
can,  he  will,  keep  me  from  all  evil ;  and 
if  death  shall  be  my  portion,  he  will  take 
me,  all  unworthy  as  I  am,  to  his  king- 


THE   FIKST  EFFOKT.  103 

dom  of  glory,  for  the  sake  of  our  cruci- 
fied Redeemer." 

Blair  Eobertson  had  the  rare  gifts  of 
voice  and  manner  which  ever  exercise 
an  influence  more  powerful  than  force  of 
argument  or  elegance  of  stjTle.  What  he 
said  went  home  to  the  hearts  of  his  hear- 
ers. As  he  uttered  the  deep  feelings  of 
his  soul,  his  rude  listeners  were  awed 
into  silence.  He  paused,  and  there  was 
a  moment  of  deathlike  stillness. 

It  was  interrupted  by  Brimstone,  who 
uttered  an  oath  in  coarse  bravado,  as  he 
exclaimed  that  he  for  one  would  hear  no 
more  such  stuff,  fit  only  for  milk-sop 
landlubbers  and  silly  women. 

"Read  no  more,  my  boy,"  said  Deny 
Duck  soberly.  "You  cast  your  pearls 
before  swine." 

Blair  turned  a  quick  look  upon  the 
mate  as  he  said,  "  You  then  know  some- 
thing of  Scripture,  and  can  make  a  right 


104  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

use  of  it.  I  believe  I  have  found  a 
friend." 

"You  have,  you  have,"  said  Derry 
Duck,  grasping  the  offered  hand  of  the 
stripling  in  a  gripe  that  would  have 
made  him  wince  with  pain  but  for  the 
bounding  joy  of  his  heart. 

Derry  Duck  was  called  away  at  that 
moment  by  a  summons  from  the  captain, 
and  Blair,  unmolested,  closed  his  letter 
and  dropped  it  in  the  mail-bag.  Prayer 
for  the  mate  of  the  Molly  was  in  the 
heart  of  Blair,  even  as  his  hands  were 
busy  with  the  melting  wax,  or  loosing 
the  rude  entrance  to  the  post-office  on 
the  sea. 


TEMPTATION.  105 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

TEMPTATION. 

DERRY  DUCK  was  no  mean  ally.  The 
strength  of  his  arm,  and  his  position  as 
second  in  command,  gave  him  great  influ- 
ence on  board  the  Molly.  There  were 
traditions  of  the  power  of  his  bare  fist  to 
deal  death  with  a  single  blow — traditions 
which  won  for  him  an  odd  kind  of  re- 
spect, and  insured  for  him  the  obedience 
he  never  failed  to  exact.  Derry  having 
avowed  himself  the  friend  of  Blair  Rob- 
ertson, it  was  well  understood  that  there 
must  be  an  end  to  the  peculiar  persecu- 
tions to  which  the  boy  had  been  subject- 
ed. He  could  not  of  course  escape  such 
rough  usage  of  word  and  act  as  the  crew 
had  for  each  other,  but  he  was  to  be  no 
longer  their  chosen  butt  and  scape-goat. 


106  THE    BOY  PATEIOT. 

Blair  felt  at  once  the  advantage  of 
having  so  powerful  "a  friend  at  court," 
and  he  eagerty  seized  upon  the  favorable 
turn  in  affairs  to  carry  out  his  new  plans 
and  wishes  for  his  associates.  It  had 
struck  him  that  there  was  but  one  way 
to  avoid  having  his  ears  pained  and  his 
soul  polluted  by  the  conversation  that 
was  the  entertainment  of  the  mess.  He 
must  do  his  share  of  the  talking,  and  so 
adapt  it  to  his  own  taste  and  principles. 
The  lion's  share  Blair  determined  it 
should  be,  and  that  without  unfairness, 
as  he  had  to  make  up  for  lost  time. 
Once  assured  that  Brimstone's  unwashed 
hand  was  not  to  be  placed  over  his  mouth 
if  he  attempted  to  speak,  and  the  cry, 
"Shut  up,  Mum,"  raised  by  his  compan- 
ions, Blair's  tongue  was  set  loose. 

We  have  said  that  Blair  was  by  no 
means  averse  to  hearing  his  own  voice  • 
and  much  as  his  guiding  motives  and 


TEMPTATION.  107 

aims  had  changed,  the  Blair  on  board 
the  Molly  was  still  the  same  human  be- 
ing that  he  was  in  Joe  Robertson's  little 
iparlor  in  Fairport.  Never  did  city  belle 
strive  more  earnestly  to  make  her  con- 
versation attractive  to  her  hearers,  than 
did  our  young  patriot,  actuated  by  a  mo- 
tive which  is  in  comparison  with  hers  as 
the  sunlight  to  the  glow-worm's  uncer- 
tain ray. 

Blair  had  songs  to  sing  and  speeches 
to  make.  He  had  wild  stories  of  the 
struggles  of  the  early  settlers  of  Maine, 
caught  long  ago  from  the  lips  of  gray- 
haired  men  and  treasured  in  the  boy's 
heart,  that  had  little  reckoned  the  com- 
ing use  for  these  hoarded  wonders.  The 
captains  who  had  shared  the  services  of 
the  pilot  of  Fairport  had  filled  his  will- 
ing ears  with  tales  of  their  adventures 
in  every  sea  and  on  every  coast,  and  the 
fond  father  had  garnered  these  marvel- 


108  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

louts  legends  to  tell  to  his  little  listener 
at  home,  till  the  child's  eyes  glowed 
bright  as  he  panted  to  taste  of  peril,  and 
do  and  dare  amid  the  stormy  waves. 

Now  indeed  came  a  time  of  peril  to 
Blair.  With  secret  delight  he  found  he 
had  a  power  to  charm  and  move  even 
the  rough  band  who  gathered  round 
him  to  catch  every  word  of  the  glowing 
narratives  he  poured  forth  from  his 
crowded  storehouse.  There  is  some- 
thing within  us  all  which  prompts  us  to 
adapt  our  conversation  to  the  taste  and 
capacity  of  our  companions.  A  kindly 
inclination  it  may  be,  and  yet  it  is  full 
of  danger.  He  who  may  dare  to  be  "all 
things  to  all  men,"  must,  like  St.  Paul, 
have  set  his  feet  on  the  rock  Christ 
Jesus,  and  be  exalted  by  the  contin- 
ual remembrance  of  the  "cloud  of  wit- 
nesses" in  the  heavenly  kingdom,  and 
the  fixed,  all -searching  glance  of  the 


TEMPTATION.  109 

pure  eye  of  God,  reading  the  inmost 
soul. 

Insensibly  Blair  inclined  to  use  the 
language  in  which  his  hearers  couched 
their  own  thoughts.  As  we  speak  baby- 
talk  to  the  infant,  and  broken  English  to 
the  Frenchman,  he  unconsciously  dealt 
in  expressions  adapled  to  the  wild  eager 
faces  that  looked  into  his.  Here  had 
surely  been  a  temptation  that  would 
have  dragged  the  young  speaker  down 
to  the  pit  which  the  great  adversary  had 
made  ready  for  him,  but  for  the  strong 
Deliverer  who  walked  amid  the  flames  of 
fire  with  the  three  faithful  "children"  of 
old. 

Blair  saw  his  danger,  and  met  it  not 
in  his  own  strength.  Whether  he  sat 
down  at  table,  or  mingled  in  the  groups 
on  deck,  or  shared  the  watch  of  a  com- 
panion, by  a  determined  and  prayerful 
effort  he  strove  to  keep  in  his  mind  the 


110  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

presence  of  "One  like  unto  the  Son  of 
man."  To  him  that  face,  unsullied  by 
taint  of  sin  or  shame,  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  weather-beaten,  guilt-marked  coun- 
tenances of  the  crew  of  the  Molly.  He 
who  "turned  and  looked  on  Peter"  was 
asking  his  young  servant  in  a  tender, 
appealing  glance,  "  Will  you  blaspheme 
my  name?  Will  you  offend  Him  in 
whose  eyes  the  heavens  are  not  pure, 
and  who  chargeth  even  his  angels  with 
folly  ?" 

A  deep  "No;  so  help  me  God,"  was 
the  full  response  of  the  whole  being  of 
Blair  Robertson.  He  would  watch  his 
tongue  and  guard  his  lips  by  the  contin- 
ual prayer  which  should  stir  in  his  heart 
in  the  midst  of  speech,  song,  or  tale  of 
wild  adventure. 

When  the  young  sailor  had  taught  his 
listeners  gladly  to  hear  when  he  would 
give  them  pleasure,  he  by  degrees  gave 


TEMPTATION.  Ill 

full  utterance  to  the  natural  language 
and  interests  of  his  heart.  They  learned 
to  love  to  listen  even  when  he  poured 
forth  in  his  peculiarly  melodious  voice 
some  majestic  mariner's  hymn,  or  told 
in  thrilling  tones  how  some  God-fear- 
ing seaman  had  stood  at  the  helm  of  a 
burning  ship  and  headed  her  to  land, 
until  he  passed  from  amid  the  devour- 
ing flames  to  the  glory  of  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  They  heard  and  could  not 
but  admire  the  story  of  the  unselfish 
Christian  captain,  who  saw  himself  left 
alone  on  the  sinking  ship,  but  would  not 
crowd  the  already  overloaded  boats  with 
his  manly  form.  He  preferred  to  meet 
his  doom  in  the  path  of  duty,  and  on 
the  deck  where  God  had  placed  him 
go  down  to  the  depths  of  the  sea,  sure 
that  his  Saviour  would  there  receive 
him  and  give  him  an  abundant  entrance 
into  heaven. 


112  THE    BOY   PATEIOT. 

Thus  in  his  own  way  Blair  was  labor- 
ing for  the  welfare  of  his  shipmates,  ever 
praying  that  some  good  seed  might  be 
blessed  by  the  Lord  of  the  vineyard,  and 
spring  up  unto  eternal  life. 


BERRY   DUCK.  113 

CHAPTER  XIY. 

DERRY  DUCK. 

DERRY  DUCK  having  vouchsafed  his 
protection  to  the  young  stranger,  for  a 
time  sought  no  further  intimacy  with 
him.  He  might  be  seen  occasionally 
among  the  groups  who  were  won  to  hear 
a  song  or  a  story  from  Blair,  but  he  was 
apt  to  leave  these  scenes  suddenly,  as  if 
for  some  call  of  duty  or  stirred  by  some 
quick  and  painful  thrust  of  feeling. 

Captain  Knox  was  a  stern,  moody 
man,  who  had  very  little  direct  inter- 
course with  his  crew.  Derry  Duck  was 
made  his  medium  of  communication  on 
every  ordinary  occasion.  The  captain 
was  the  only  person  on  board  who  kept 
a  stock  of  writing  materials,  and  from 
him,  through  Derry,  Blair  and  the  other 


Youug  Patriot. 


114  THE   BOY  PATRIOT. 

sailors  obtained  such  articles  on  the  rare 
occasions  when  they  were  in  demand. 
There  was  not  much  taste  or  time  for 
literary  efforts  on  board  the  Molly. 

A  pleasant  evening  had  collected  all 
the  sailors  on  deck,  and  Blair  had  taken 
the  opportunity  to  retire  below  to  spend 
some  time  in  recalling  Scripture  to  his 
mind,  which  was  now  his  substitute  for 
reading  in  the  holy  book.  He  was  rous- 
ed from  his  meditations  by  the  entrance 
of  Derry  Duck,  with  an  inkstand  in  one 
hand  and  a  sheet  of  paper  in  the  other. 
Blair  rose  as  the  mate  came  towards  him, 
supposing  the  writing  materials  were  to 
be  left  in  his  charge  for  some  shipmate. 

"Sit  down,  boy,"  said  Derry  in  his 
quick  way,  "sit  down;  I  want  you  to  do 
something  for  me." 

"I  should  be  right  glad  to  do  any 
thing  I  could  for  you.  You  have  been 
a  real  friend  to  me,"  said  Blair  warmly. 


DEERY   DUCK.  115 

"  You  can't  think  how  much  I  thank  you 
for  it.7' 

Derry  sat  down  and  laid  the  paper 
on  the  table  before  him.  Then  the  two 
were  for  a  moment  silent.  Blair  and  his 
"friend"  formed  a  strange  contrast  to 
each  other. 

The  slender  stripling,  tall  for  his  years, 
was  yet  in  the  blossom  of  his  youth.  His 
face,  which  was  so  like  his  loving  moth- 
er's, would  have  been  effeminate,  but  for 
the  savor  of  old  Joe  Robertson  the  pilot, 
which  tolcl  in  the  marked  nose  and  strong 
chin  of  the  boy,  but  had  no  part  in  his 
great,  clear,  soul-lit  eyes,  or  the  flexible 
lines  of  his  changing  mouth.  That  mouth 
was  now  parted  as  if  he  would  say  more, 
but  waited  for  some  word  or  sign  from 
his  companion. 

Deny  Duck  was  a  very  bundle  of 
time-worn,  storm-tried  muscles  and  sin- 
ews. The  knots  on  his  bare  arms  were 


116  THE    BOY   PATKIOT. 

like  knobs  of  oak  •  and  his  great  brawny 
hand  that  lay  there  on  the  white  paper, 
looked  like  a  powerful  living  thing,  hav- 
ing almost  an  identity  and  will  of  its 
own. 

Derry's  body  and  whole  development 
to  his  thighs  were  those  of  a  tall,  stal- 
wart man;  but  his  lower  limbs  were 
short  and  sturdy,  ending  in  great  flat 
feet  which  were  as  much  at  home  in  the 
water  as  on  the  rolling  deck,  or  amid  the 
dizzy  rigging.  These  peculiarities  had 
given  him  the  name  by  which  he  was 
known — originally  "Daring  Duck,"  but 
by  degrees  contracted  into  the  "Derry 
Duck"  which  Blair  had  caught  from  the 
sailors. 

It  was  hard  to  realize  that  the  mate  of 
the  Molly  had  ever  been  an  infant,  whose 
tender  cheek  had  been  pressed  to  that  of 
a  loving  mother.  And  yet  it  was  true 
that  a  Christian  mother  had  once  hailed 


BERRY    BUCK.  117 

that  hardened  man  as  a  gift  from  God  to 
nurse  for  him.  His  lips  had  been  taught 
to  pray,  and  his  young  footsteps  guided 
to  the  house  of  God. 

Time  had  made  sad  changes  in  him 
since  then.  His  skin  was  now  as  tough 
and  well-tanned  as  his  leathern  belt,  in 
which  hung  many  a  curious  implement 
of  war  and  peace,  a  perfect  tool-shop  for 
the  boarder's  wild  work,  or  the  seaman's 
craft.  In  that  strong,  hard  face  there 
was  a  tale  of  a  life  of  exposure,  a  lawless 
life,  which  had  well-nigh  given  over  to 
the  evil  one  the'  soul  which  God  meant 
for  himself. 

"  I  want  you  to  write  a  letter  for  me," 
said  Derry,  looking  cautiously  about  him 
and  then  going  on,  "  a  letter  to  my  little 
daughter.  Hush  ;  not  a  word  of  this  to 
any  of  the  men.  When  it  is  done,  you 
must  put  it  inside  of  one  of  your  love- 
letters  to  your  mother.  They  mustn't 


118  THE    BOY   PATEIOT. 

get  wind  of  it.  They  are  not  fit  even  to 
know  I  have  such  a  child,  much  less  to 
see  her.  Be  secret!  Can  I  trust  you, 
my  boy  ?" 

"I'll  write  for  you  with  all  my  heart," 
said  Blair  in  astonishment;  "and  of 
course  I  wont  name  it  if  you  do  n't  wish 
me  to ;  no,  not  to  a  soul  on  board.  But 
I  shall  have  to  tell  my  mother,  or  she 
wont  know  what  to  do  with  the  letter." 

"Just  ask  her  to  mail  it  for  one  of 

» 

your  shipmates.  That  will  be  enough," 
said  Derry  quickly.  '"Least  said,  soon- 
est mended.'  I  have  my  reasons.  I 
know  which  way  the  wind  blows,  and 
how  to  ward  off  a  sou'-wester." 

"What  shall  I  say?"  said  Blair,  tak- 
ing up  the  pen,  and  reaching  for  the  pa- 
per. Derry's  hand  lay  on  it,  a  "  paper- 
weight "  that  did  not  move  itself  off  at 
Blair's  motion. 

"You  see,"  began  the  sailor,  "you  see 


DERRY   DUCK.  119 

I  Ve  got  a  little  daughter,  not  so  old  as 
you  are  by  a  year  or  two.  I  dare  say 
you  think  she  's  made  of  coarse  stuff  like 
me,  fit  for  the  rough  and  tumble  of  life. 
No  such  thing.  Her  hand  is  white  as  a 
sail  on  a  summer  sea,  and  her  little  round 
cheek  is  so  soft,  Oh,  so  soft,  that  when  it 
snugs  up  to  mine  it  seems  as  if  an  angel 
was  touching  me,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  was  n't 
fit  for  such  as  her  to  love  and  fondle. 
Yet  she  loves  me ;  she  loves  her  old  dad. 
She  do  n't  call  me  Derry  Duck,  not  she. 
She  do  n't  know  any  thing  about  Derry 
Duck,  and  what  he  does  when  he  's  off 
on  the  sea.  I  do  n't  mean  she  ever  shall. 
I  'd  rather  die  first,  gnawed  to  pieces  by 
a  hungry  shark.  Her  mother  left  her  to 
me,  a  little  two-year-old  thing,  a  cling- 
ing little  creature  that  would  snug  in  my 
arms  and  go  to  sleep,  whether  I  was 
drunk  or  sober.  I  killed  her  mother — 
sent  her  to  the  better  country  before  her 


120  THE    BOY   PATEIOT. 

time.  I  did  n't  lay  my  hand  to  her ;  I 
wasn't  bad  enough  for  that.  But  my  ways 
took  the  pink  out  of  her  cheeks,  and 
made  her  pine  away  and  just  go  out  of 
my  sight  like  the  wake  of  a  passing  ship. 
Where  she  had  been,  there  she  was  not. 
I  loved  her,  boy,  and  these  eyes  cried ; 
these  great  hands  would  have  willingly 
been  worn  to  the  bone  with  hard  work, 
if  that  could  have  restored  her  life.  I 
do  n't  drink  any  more.  I  've  quit  that. 
I  have  n't  touched  a  drop  since  she  died. 
I  took  to  the  sea.  I  made  up  my  mind 
I  would  n't  kill  the  little  tender  thing  she 
left  me.  She  should  never  die  for  know- 
ing how  bad  her  father  was.  I  took  the 
little  money  I  had,  and  bought  a  real 
gentleman's  suit  of  clothes.  Then  I  went 
to  a  minister  I  knew  about,  in  a  far  away 
town,  where  my — never  mind  where  the 
child's  mother  came  from — and  I  asked 
him  and  his  wife  to  take  care  of  the  lit- 


DEBEY   DUCK.  121 

tie  thing,  for  a  sorrowful  man  that  was 
going  off  on  the  sea,  and  would  pay  well 
for  what  they  did.  I  knew  it  was  n't  the 
money  that  would  make  them  lay  their 
hand  to  the  work ;  but  they  had  nothing 
to  spare,  and  I  did  n't  mean  to  leave  her 
to  charity.  I  wanted  her  brought  up  to 
be  like  her  mother,  in  ways  that  would  n't 
end  where  I'm  going.  They  took  her, 
and  there  she  is.  Nobody  can  see  her 
without  loving  her,  such  a  little,  dainty, 
winning,  clinging,  pretty  thing,  nine  years 
have  made  out  of  the  toddlin'  creature  I 
put  out  of  my  arms,  that  ached  after  her 
till  I  was  clear  out  of  sight  of  land. 
Do  n't  think  I  miss  seeing  her  when  I  'm 
ashore.  Do  n't  I  leave  Derry  Duck 
aboard  ship,  and  put  on  my  landsman's 
clothes,  and  ride  up  to  the  door  where 
she  is,  with  my  pocket  full  of  money. 
She  do  n't  lack  for  any  thing,  I  warrant 
you.  She  ?s  dressed  like  a  rose,  all  in 


122  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

pink  and  green,  with  little  ribbons  flut- 
tering like  her  little  heart  when  she  sees 
me  coming.  She  's  learning  too.  Why, 
she  knows  most  enough  to  teach  the 
queen,  the  child  does.  And  then  she  's 
so  modest  and  asks  me  questions,  as  if  I 
could  tell  her  every  thing.  I  always 
have  a  cold  or  a  headache  or  something, 
and  can't  say  much  when  I'm  there.  I 
keep  still,  and  take  my  fill  of  looking  at 
her,  and  hugging  her  close  to  this  old 
tough  heart.  I  would  n't  let  out  an  oath 
before  her.  I  'd  rather  see  the  Molly  go 
to  the  bottom  in  fair  weather.  I  'm  scant 
of  my  talk,  lest  I  should  let  out  that  my 
way  of  thinking  is  different  from  hers. 
I  wouldn't  have  her  pretty  blue  eyes 
turn  away  from  me,  so  sorrowful,  yet  so 
loving,  just  as  her  mother's  used  to.  I 
could  n't  bear  that.  She  loves  me,  that 
little  pure  thing,  that  says  its  prayers 
night  and  morning,  and  asks  God  to  bless 


DERRY  DUCK.  123 

its  father  on  the  sea.  She  7s  my  angel. 
Mayhap  those  little  prayers  will  get  heard 
some  day,  and  a  blessing  will  come  to 
me  and  make  me  a  different  man.  Only 
the  Almighty  could  turn  Berry  Duck 
into  a  father  fit  for  that  child's  eyes  to 
look  on.  My  heart  yearns  after  her  when 
I  'm  far  away,  but  I  do  n't  let  her  write 
to  me.  I  would  n't  have  such  men  as  I 
live  with  know  where  my  flower  hides 
its  little  head.  I  would  n't  have  her  run 
a  chance  of  seeing  any  body  who  knows 
Derry  Duck,  and  might  tell  her  of  his 
wild  ways.  It  would  break  her  little 
heart,  it  would.  I  can't  write  to  her; 
not  but  what  I  was  scholard  somewhat, 
long  ago ;  but  these  hands  have  had  oth- 
er work  to  do  than  holding  a  pen  and 
making  letters  that  a  wise  little  girl  like 
her  would  think  all  right.  I  could  n't 
either  put  into  words  just  what  I  want  to 
say.  It  a'n't  much  that  I  would  say, 


124  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

neither,  but  a  kind  of  letting  out  how  I 
set  all  the  world  by  her,  and  want  her 
to  be  just  so  much  better  than  other 
folks  as  I  am  worse.  Something  would 
slip  in  that  should  n't,  if  I  was  to  try ;  I 
know  there  would.  But  you  can  write 
for  me.  You  would  know  just  how  to 
put  it.  She  says  she  yearns  after  me 
when  I  'm  gone,  and  would  be  so  full  of 
joy  if  she  could  once  have  a  letter  from 
me,  all  her  own,  to  read  over  and  over 
when  she  can't  throw  her  arms  round 
my  neck  and  put  her  little  loving  face 
close  up  to  mine.  Will  you  write  for 
me,  boy,  something  for  the  dear  girl  to 
read  over,  and  think  the  right  kind  of 
a  father  is  talking  to  her,  a  man  she 
would  n't  be  ashamed  of  before  the  com- 
pany her  mother  keeps  up  there  ?" 

The  last  words  were  spoken  reverent- 
ly, and  formed  a  strange  contrast  to 
much  that  had  gone  before.  We  have 


DEEEY   DUCK.  125 

omitted  the  oaths  and  rough  expletives 
with  which  Derry  interlarded  his  speech. 
There  is  the  taint  of  sin  even  in  the  rep- 
etition of  such  language. 

Blair  Robertson  had  listened  with  a 
throbbing  heart  and  tearful  eye  to  the 
sailor's  story.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
God  had  not  quite  cast  off  one  who  had 
such  a  tender  care  for  the  happiness  and 
purity  of  his  child.  Blair  gently  laid 
his  slender  hand  on  Derry 's  brawny  fin- 
gers, and  looked  up  earnestly  into  his 
face  as  he  said,  "Why  can't  you  be  just 
such  a  father,  Derry  ?" 

Derry  laughed  a  sorrowful,  derisive 
laugh,  and  then  said  almost  fiercely, 
"You  don't  know  me,  lad.  It  would 
chill  your  very  blood  to  know  what  1 7ve 
done,  and  where  I  've  been.  There  are 
spots  on  me  that  nothing  can  wash  out. 
I  've  grown  into  it,  boy.  It 's  my  life. 
I'm  hard  and  tough,  soul  and  body. 


126  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

There  's  no  making  me  over.  1 'm  spoil- 
ed in  the  grain.  I  tell  you  it 's  too  late. 
I  a'n't  a  father  for  her  to  know.  I  can't 
be  made  into  one.  That  a'n't  what  I 
came  here  to  talk  about.  Will  you  write 
my  letter,  that 's  the  question  ?" 

"  Certainly- 1  will  write  for  you  in  the 
way  that  seems  to  me  the  best.  But, 
Derry,  '  there  is  a  fountain  opened  for 
sin  and  all  uncleanness.'  '  The  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin.7 
'  If  any  man  be  in  Christ  Jesus,  he  is  a 
new  creature;  old  things  have  passed 
away.'  '  With  God  all  things  are  possi- 
ble.' '  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world 
fo  save  sinners.'  '  Though  your  sins  be 
as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  white  as  snow ; 
though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they 
shall  be  as  wool.' ' 

As  Blair  spoke  these  words,  he  fixed 
his  earnest  eyes  on  the  sailor's  face,  and 
seemed  pleading  for  his  very  soul. 


DEKRY   DUCK.  127 

"There  is  a  look  about  you  like  her, 
like  her  up  there,"  said  Deny,  almost 
trembling.  "  I  see  her  face  in  the  dark 
night  when  I  'rn  on  the  watch,  and  her 
eyes  speak  to  me  just  as  yours  do — Oh, 
so  pleading.  Hush  !  There's  some  one 
coming.  Write  the  letter  as  if  it  was 
one  of  your  own.  They  wont  hector  you 
now.  I've  taught  'em  better  manners. 
Let  me  see  'em  touch  a  hair  of  your  head, 
and  I  '11  finish  'em  quick." 

As  Deny  spoke,  he  gave  a  thrust  with 
his  clenched  fist  as  at  an  imaginary  ene- 
my. The  eyes  that  had  lately  been  soft- 
ened into  tenderness  had  their  old  fierce 
twinkle,  and  his  hard  features  settled 
into  their  fixed  expression  of  determined 
daring. 

The  men  gave  place  as  he  forced  his 
way  up  the  hatchway.  On  he  went, 
stamping  along  the  deck  as  if  he  ground 
an  enemy  beneath  his  heel  at  every  step. 


128  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

A  LETTER. 

BLAIR  would  gladly  have  chosen  an- 
other time  and  place  for  the  composition 
of  the  difficult  letter  he  was  called  on  to 
write,  but  he  felt  compelled  to  fulfil  his 
promise  at  once.  The  men  passed  by 
him  in  silence,  save  the  single  remark  of 
Brimstone,  "  Give  my  love  to  your  sweet 
mother/'  delivered  in  an  insulting  tone, 
and  with  a  laugh  more  repulsive  than  the 
hiss  of  a  snake. 

Blair  glanced  anxiously  in  the  direc- 
tion where  Deny  had  disappeared,  al- 
most fearing  to  see  that  clenched  hand 
coming  forth  to  do  its  threatened  work 
of  vengeance.  But  Derry  was  already 
far  away,  and  Brimstone  joined  his  mess- 


A  LETTER.  129 

mates  without  receiving  a  word  or  sign 
of  rebuke. 

Blair  took  up  his  pen  with  a  silent 
prayer  that  it  might  be  guided  by  Him 
without  whose  aid  vain  are  the  most  elo- 
quent words  of  the  wisest  counsellor. 
His  letter  was  as  follows : 

"DEAR  — I  don't  know  your 

name,  but  your  father  is  my  friend,  and 
of  course  I  feel  interested  in  you  for  his 
sake.  He  has  been  very  kind  to  me, 
and  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  do 
any  thing  for  him.  He  has  been  talk- 
ing to  me  of  you,  and  while  he  has  gone 
on  deck  he  wants  me  to  write  to  you. 
How  he  loves  you.  You  are  the  bright 
spot  to  him  in  life,  his  oasis  in  the  des- 
ert of  this  weary  world.  When  he  is  far 
out  on  the  wide  sea,  your  face  comes  up 
before  him,  and  makes  the  loneliest  place 
a  home.  He  loves  to  think  that  you  pray 
for  him.  He  feels  that  he  needs  your 


Youne  Hot  Hot. 


130  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

prayers.  Happy  are  the  fathers  who, 
plunged  in  earthly  cares  on  sea  and  land, 
have  children  to  fold  their  hands  and  lift 
their  hearts  in  prayer  for  them.  This  is 
all  you  can  do  for  your  absent  father. 
Though  you  could  give  him  crowns  and 
kingdoms,  wealth  and  honor,  they  would 
not  be  worth  as  much  as  one  earnest, 
faithful,  importunate  prayer  in  Jesus' 
name.  That  name  is  all-powerful,  and 
must  prevail.  Your  father  calls  you  his 
'  little  flower.7  He  wants  his  little  flower 
to  be  pure  and  modest  and  simple,  like 
the  lily,  which  all  may  consider  and  see 
in  it  the  handiwork  of  God.  Only  God, 
who  made  this  beautiful  world,  can  pu- 
rify and  cleanse  our  souls  and  help  us 
to  walk  in  his  holy  ways.  I  know  that 
you  have  been  taught  all  this  by  the 
kind  friends  who  have  watched  over  you 
from  infancy.  Your  father  wants  you 
to  give  good  heed  to  their  counsel,  and 


A   LETTER.  131 

ever  watch  and  pray  and  struggle  against 
temptation.  No  blow  could  fall  on  him 
so  sore  as  to  know  his  little  darling  was 
walking  in  the  wrong  path.  May  you 
never  so  grieve  his  fond  heart.  Again 
I  must  tell  you,  though  you  have  read  it 
in  his  repeated  caresses,  how  your  father 
loves  you.  May  you  be  to  him  that  best 
of  treasures,  a  prayerful,  pious  daughter, 
is  the  sincere  wish  of 

"  Your  father's  friend, 

"  BLAIR  ROBERTSON." 

Blair  folded  his  letter,  and  then  ad- 
dressing a  few  lines  to  his  mother,  he 
inclosed  the  two  in  a  single  envelope, 
and  sought  out  Derry  for  further  direc- 
tions. Derry  was  pacing  up  and  down 
the  deck,  making  the  boards  ring  with 
his  heavy  tread. 

"Shall  I  read  you  what  I  have  writ- 
ten ?"  said  Blair,  laying  his  hand  on  Der- 
ry's  shoulder. 


132  THE   BOY   PATEIOT. 

Derry  started  as  if  in  a  dream  ;  but 
recollecting  himself,  he  said  quickly, 
"Yes,  yes.  Here,  here  in  the  moon- 
light. No  one  will  listen  here." 

The  light  of  the  full  moon  fell  on  the 
open -letter,  and  Blair  read  it  without 
difficulty. 

"That's  it,  that's  it.  Every  word  of 
it  true,"  said  Derry  in  a  voice  trembling 
with  feeling.  "  It  would  kill  me  to  think 
of  her  going  wrong.  But  she  wont.  Her 
way  is  up,  and  mine  is  down,  down,  down. 
Give  me  the  letter ;  I  '11  put  the  right 
name  on  it.  You  do  n't  mind  my  seeing 
what  goes  to  your  mother.  That's  no 
more  than  fair.  I  tell  you  I  do  n't  like 
folks  to  know  where  my  flower  hides. 
I'll  see  it  into  the  bag,  and  mind  you 
do  n't  breathe  a  word  of  this.  Mind !" 

Derry's  finger  was  raised  in  a  threat- 
ening attitude  as  he  spoke,  and  he  stop- 
ped after  he  had  moved  some  steps 


A   LETTER.  133 

away  to  give  again  to  Blair  this  sign  of 
silence  and  secrecy. 

Blair  lingered  on  deck,  not  to  enjoy 
the  calm  moonlight  which  so  lovingly 
crowned  and  silvered  the  crests  of  the 
waves.  His  eyes  were  lifted  ujtward, 
but  not  to  gaze  on  the  deep  blue  of  the 
moonlit  sky.  To  the  great  Creator,  with- 
out whom  was  not  any  thing  made  that 
was  made,  Blair  was  pouring  out  the  ear- 
nest petitions  of  his  loving  heart.  For 
Deny  and  his  little  daughter  prayed  the 
young  Christian,  as  they  only  can  pray 
who  believe  the  blessed  words,  "If  ye 
shall  ask  any  thing  in  my  name,  I  will 
do  it." 


134  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

CHAPTER  XYI. 

A  MARVEL. 

WEEKS  flew  by  while  the  Molly  was 
cruising  about,  waiting  and  watching  for 
the  expected  East  Indiaman.  The  pri- 
vateer, meanwhile,  was  not  losing  time. 
Several  small  merchant  vessels  came  in 
her  way,  and  submitted  without  a  blow 
to  the  argument  of  her  compelling  pair 
of  guns.  These  vessels  were  either  strip- 
ped of  their  cargo  and' then  burnt,  or  else 
sent  with  a  few  sailors  as  their  prize 
crew  to  some  American  port.  The  cap- 
ture of  the  British  merchant  ships  kept 
the  Molly  supplied  with  the  necessaries 
for  her  continued  cruise,  and  served  be- 
sides to  calm  the  impatience  of  the  men, 
who  were  beginning  to  complain  of  their 
captain's  pertinacious  clinging  to  the 


A   MARVEL.  135 

• 

hope  of  taking  the  East  Indiaman,  which 
might  already  be  safely  harbored  in  Eng- 
lish waters.  There  had  been  dark  nights 
and  foggy  days  in  which  she  might  well 
have  passed  them,  so  they  reasoned.  But 
Berry  Duck  said  there  was  no  moving 

X 

the  captain,  and  grumblers  would  do  best 
to  "keep  their  tongues  between  their 
teeth."  The  mail-bag  of  the  Molly  had 
gone  home  on  board  one  of  the  captured 
vessels,  and  it  was  a  pleasant  thought  to 
Blair  that  his  dear  mother  would  soon 
feel  almost  as  if  she  heard  the  voice  of 
her  son  at  her  side.  Berry's  little 
daughter  too  would  receive  her  letter, 
and  Blair  tried  to  picture  her  joy  as  she 
held  this  treasure  in  her  hands. 

Berry  moved  about  in  his  usual  way, 
but  was  inclined  to  avoid  Blair  since  the 
night  when  he  had  given  the  boy  his  con- 
fidence. Blair  often  found  it  hard  to 
believe  that  those  gentle,  tender  tones 


136  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

had  come  from  Berry's  great  closely  shut 
mouth,  and  that  those  snapping  eyes  had 
softened  almost  to  tears  as  he  spoke  of 
his  darling  child. 

Sunday  on  board  the  Molly  was  pre- 
cisely like  other  days,  as  far  as  the  move- 
ments and  occupations  of  the  men  were 
concerned.  To  Blair  there  was  ever  a 
more  solemn  stillness  over  the  sea,  and 
a  more  imposing  grandeur  in  the  wide 
canopy  of  the  overhanging  sky.  One 
great  temple  it  seemed  to  him,  the  sunlit 
waves  its  shining  floor,  the  firmament  its 
arching  roof,  and  the  unseen  angels  the 
countless  ^worshippers,  singing,  "Praise 
and  glory  and  honor  be  unto  the  name 
of  God  most  high."  In  this  adoring  song 
Blair  heartily  joined,  and  he  longed  and 
prayed  for  the  time  to  come  when  on 
every  white-winged  ship  there  should  be 
gathered  the  servants  of  the  Lord  of 
sabaoth,  rejoicing  to  call  upon  his  holy 


A   MARVEL.  137 

name  and  give  him  glory  for  all  his 
wondrous  works. 

Absorbed  in  such  thoughts  as  these, 
Blair  was  leaning  over  the  side  of  the 
ship  one  Sunday  morning.  Suddenly  a 
strong  voice  close  at  his  side  spoke  with 
deep  earnestness  the  words,  "  Bless  the 
Lord,  0  my  soul ;  and  all  that  is  within 
me,  bless  his  holy  name." 

Blair  turned  in  astonishment,  and  saw 
Derry  Duck  close  at  his  side.  Tears 
were  coursing  down  those  rough  cheeks, 
and  the  almost  blinded  eyes  were  lifted 
reverently  upward,  and  silently  spoke 
the  same  language  as  the  song  of  praise. 

Blair's  heart  bounded.  He  could  not 
be  deceived.  One  of  God's  great  mira- 
cles of  grace  had  been  wrought.  The 
devil  had  been  cast  out,  and  the  ransomed 
was  giving  G-od  the  glory.  It  must  be  so. 

Blair  seized  the  hand  of  his  compan- 
ion, and  looking  into  his  face,  said  quick- 


138  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

ly,  "  Oh,  Deny,  are  you  really  in  ear- 
nest?" 

'"Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul,  ancTfor- 
get  not  all  his  benefits :  who  forgiveth 
all  thine  iniquities;  who  healeth  all  thy 
diseases  ;  who  redeemeth  thy  life  from 
destruction ;  who  crowneth  thee  with  lov- 
ing-kindness and  tender  mercies,' "  con- 
tinued Deny  with  deep  feeling.  "  He 
found  me  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins  ; 
he  has  given  me  new  life  in  Christ  Jesus. 
Praise  and  honor  unto  his  holy  name." 

Tears  rushed  to  the  eyes  of  Blair  Rob- 
ertson. A  fervent  "Thank  G-od!"  was 
all  he  could  utter.  Blair's  whole  being 
did -indeed  "magnify  the  Lord"  at  this 
wonderful  evidence  of  his  power.  Curses 
had  been  changed  to  praises.  The  blas- 
pheming lips  had  been  touched  by  the 
Saviour's  hand,  and  taught  the  language 
of  the  children  of  God.  His  young  ser- 
vant could  not  but  "  stand  in  awe,"  and 


A   MARVEL.  139 

own  the  might  and  the  wonderful  mercy 
of  the  King  of  kings. 

Derry  was  the  first  to  break  the  sol- 
emn silence.  "Those  words  never  left 
me  :  '  Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet, 
they  shall  be  white  as  snow ;  though  they 
be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as 
wool,"'  he  said.  "They  stuck  to  me, 
and  rang  in  my  ears  and  searched  every 
nook  and  cranny  of  my  wicked  heart. 
Often  I  had  longed  to  be  a  Christian  man 
for  the  little  dear's  sake,  if  not  for  my 
own;  but  I  said  to  myself,  'No,  Derry 
Duck,  you  are  all  pitch,  you  can't  be 
made  white ;'  and  Satan  helped  me  to 
hold  on  to  that  way  of  thinking.  Your 
scripture  gave  the  lie  again  and  again  to 
that.  It  seemed  to  say  to  me,  You  choose 
blackness  and  damnation,  when  G-od  asks 
you  to  wash  and  be  clean.  What  I  've 
suffered  these  weeks,  no  soul  out  of  per- 
dition can  tell.  The  devil  clung  to  me. 


140  THE   BOY    PATRIOT. 

He  would  not  let  me  go.  He  claimed 
me  for  his  own.  He  told  over  to  me  my 
dark,  hidden  sins,  and  taunted  me  that  I 
had  gone  too  far  to  go  back  now.  He 
hissed  in  my  ear  that  no  power  could 
cleanse  and  save  such  as  me.  Then 
came  up  the  words,  '  With  G-od  all  things 
are  possible/  '  Though  your  sins  be  as 
scarlet,  they  shall  be  white  as  snow.' 
'  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save 
sinners.'  And  he  has  saved  me.  I  am 
His.  He  has  given  me  a  mouth  to  praise 
him.  0  Blair,  think  of  his  wonderful 
mercy,  to  take  poor  wicked  Derry  Duck 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

The  boy's  heart  throbbed  and  swelled 
with  joy  and  praise.  What  was  the 
changing  of  water  to  wine,  or  the  calm- 
ing of  the  stormy  sea,  compared  to  this 
marvellous  miracle  wrought  in  a  living 
human  soul?  "He  to  whom  much  is  for- 
given, loveth  much,"  said  our  blessed 


A   MAKVEL.  HI 

Saviour;  and  in  Derry  this  truth  was 
abundantly  verified.  The  Christ  whose 
blood  could  wash  such  as  he,  was  a  Lord 
for  whom  he  was  willing  to  suffer  even 
unto  death.  The  mercy  that  could  stoop 
to  ransom  such  a  transgressor,  claimed 
an  affection  before  which  poor  Berry's 
deep  love  for  his  earthly  darling  paled, 
as  the  things  of  time  fade  into  insignifi- 
cance before  the  things  of  eternity. 

Blair  had  longed  to  see  his  rude  ship- 
mates forsaking  their  sins ;  he  had  pray- 
ed and  wrestled  in  prayer  for  them. 
Yet  now,  when  he  saw  the  work  begun 
before  his  eyes,  he  felt  the  faithlessness 
of  those  very  prayers,  and  knew  that 
they  could  have  won  no  fulfilment,  but 
for  the  merits  of  the  great  Intercessor  in 
whose  name  they  had  ever  been  offered. 

"Why  should  it  be  thought  a  thing  in- 
credible to  you  that  God  should  raise 
the  dead  ?"  This  question  of  the  apostle 


142  THE    BOY   PATEIOT. 

comes  with  power  to  the  Christians  of 
our  own  day.  Do  you  really  believe  it 
possible  for  God  to  raise  to  newness  of  life 
the  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins  ?  There 
is  no  soul  so  hardened  that  it  cannot  be 
melted  to  penitence  by  the  touch  of  the 
mighty  Spirit  of  God.  Let  this  thought 
make  us  fervent,  importunate,  instant  in 
prayer  for  the  souls  that  are  at  death's 
door  and  hasting  to  destruction. 

Can  any  thing  but  the  power  of  God 
make  the  moral  man,  once  proud  of  his 
own  uprightness,  humMe  as  the  little 
child,  leaning  only  on  the  cross  of  Christ 
for  salvation?  He  who  works  this  won- 
der can  do  yet  more.  What  are  the 
sins  and  self-will  of  the  human  heart,  in 
comparison  with  the  might  of  the  majesty 
of  Jehovah?  He  who  laid  the  strong 
foundations  of  the  earth,  and  led  forth 
the  marshalled  millions  of  the  stars  in 
their  wonderful  order,  can  mould  and 


A    MARVEL.  143 

fashion  the  soul  of  man  at  his  will.  Let 
us  not  stand  doubting,  timid,  and  faint- 
hearted, discouraged  by  the  foul  sins 
which  blot  and  efface  in  man  the  fair 
image  of  his  Maker.  Let  us  rather  ' '  come 
boldly  to  the  throne  of  grace,"  and  plead 
through  the  great  Intercessor  for  every 
wanderer  from  the  right  path,  and  spe- 
cially and  perseveringly  for  those  dear 
ones  of  our  own  households,  who,  like  the 
prodigal,  have  left  the  Father's  house,  to 
be  in  misery  and  want  in  sin's  far  for- 
eign land. 


144  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  CONFLICT.' 

Each  kind  affection  nature  gives 
Religion  makes  more  bright, 

As  sunshine  on  the  landscape  falls, 
And  beautifies  with  light. 

THE  patriot  had  hitherto  been  sleep- 
ing in  the  heart  of  Derry  Duck  ;  but  now 
he  was  to  awake  like  a  "strong  man 
armed."  There  is  not  one  kindly,  pleas- 
ant, honorable  feeling,  but  is  strengthen- 
ed and  ennobled  by  the  touch  of  divine 
grace.  Nor  only  so :  he  who  finds  him- 
self suddenly  alive  to  his  allegiance  to 
God,  has  at  the  same  time  his  vision 
cleared  to  see  around  him  a  thousand 
hitherto  unknown  or  neglected  ties,  which 
bind  him  to  his  fellow-men.  In  a  whis- 
per of  conscience,  he  is  taught  that 


THE    CONFLICT.  145 

He  is  the  faithful  patriot, 
Who  keeps  his  Maker's  laws ; 

Nor  will  the  servant  of  his  Lord 
Forsake  his  country's  cause. 

Among  the  sins  of  which  Derry  Duck 
was  called  deeply  to  repent,  was  the  dis- 
honor which  he  had  brought  on  his  own 
Christian  land,  in  many  a  port  where  his 
wild  deeds  had  left  their  guilty  trace. 
What  had  he  done  for  the  glory  of  Chris- 
tian America?  Bravely  he  had  fought 
under  her  flag ;  but  it  had  been  through 
reckless  daring,  or  a  thirst  for  gold.  Not 
for  a  noble  principle,  not  for  the  defence 
of  home  and  kindred,  altar  and  hearth- 
stone, had  he  raised  his  strong  right  arm. 

Blair  Robertson  rejoiced  to  see  the 
spirit  of  true  patriotism  awaking  in  the 
bosom  of  the  hardy  sailor.  The  high- 
souled  boy  had  now  a  sharer  in  his  en- 
thusiastic love  of  his  country,  and  devo- 
tion to  her  cause.  They  joined  their 

Yonng  Patriot.  1 0 


146  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

labors  at  once  to  improve  the  defenders 
of  the  flag,  who  were  their  shipmates, 
and  yet  a  disgrace  to  their  native  land. 
Blair  went  on  in  his  own  peculiar  way ; 
while  Deny  at  once  announced  his  posi- 
tion as  a  Christian  mate,  who  would  suf- 
fer no  profanity  in  his  hearing,  and  would 
see  the  crew  of  the  Molly  engage  in  no 
deeds  on  the  high  seas,  not  sanctioned 
by  the  letters  of  marque  which  were 
their  warrant  for  their  blows  struck 
against  the  common  foe. 

Some  outward  change  had  been  pro- 
duced in  the  men  of  the  privateer,  when 
all  thoughts  were  suddenly  turned  into 
a  new  channel.  A  fast  sailing  American 
merchant  ship  informed  Captain  Knox 
that  the  expected  East  Indiaman  was  not 
more  than  half  a  day  behind  her. 

All  was  at  once  stir  and  bustle  from 
stem  to  stern  of  the  Molly.  The  sturdy 
little  craft  was  like  the  bristling  porcu- 


THE    CONFLICT.  147 

pine,  ready  and  impatient  for  action, 
when  the  masts  of  the  East  Indiaman 
slowly  rose  above  the  horizon.  The  pri- 
vateer gave  chase  at  once,  and  rapidly 
neared  its  prey.  The  guns  of  the  Molly 
gave  the  signal  for  surrender.  The  Brit- 
ish flag  went  down,  and  Deny  Duck, 
with  a  strong  party  of  boarders  was  sent 
at  once  to  seize  the  valuable  prize. 

Ready  to  pounce  on  their  defenceless 
victims,  the  eager  sailors  climbed  the 
sides  of  the  huge  vessel  and  stood  upon 
its  deck,  cutlass  and  pistol  in  hand.  Sud- 
denly the  hatchways  were  thrown  open, 
and  a  band  of  British  soldiers  sprang 
forth  with  a  fierce  battle-cry.  Derry 
Duck  rushed  among  them  with  desperate 
valor,  and  was  heartily  seconded  by  his 
fearless  followers. 

From  the  deck  of  the  Molly,  Captain 
Knox  could  see  the  trap  into  which  he 
had  fallen.  He  could  not  use  his  well- 


148  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

loaded  guns  without  destruction  to  his 
own  men.  He  could  only  send  reinforce- 
ments to  their  small  band,  and  quietly 
see  the  battle  fought  hand  to  hand,  which 
a  few  cannon  balls  would  have  settled  in 
a  moment. 

Several  skilful  British  marksmen  were 
firing  at  the  few  who  remained  on  the  ap- 
proaching privateer,  when  Captain  Knox 
ordered  Blair  aloft. 

Blair  obeyed  without  a  moment's  hes- 
itation, and  sped  upward  as  if  in  the 
glee  of  boyhood's  play.  Yet  in  the  heart 
of  the  young  patriot  there  was  prayer 
for  his  soul,  should  it  be  set  free  in  that 
hour  of  danger;  there  was  burning  love 
for  his  country's  cause.  The  eye  of  Der- 
ry  Duck  fell  on  the  isolated  group  who 
had  been  firing  at  the  privateer.  He 
saw  a  well-known  form  climbing  to  the 
dizzy  masthead,  while  the  shot  were  fly- 
ing around  him.  Derry  rushed  in  among 


THE   CONFLICT.  149 

them  with  his  axe  in  his  hand,  and  wav- 
ing it  around  his  head  scattered  them 
like  leaves  before  the  wind.  He  stayed 
long  enough  to  see  that  Blair  had  not 
dropped  like  a  wounded  bird  among  the 
rigging  of  the  Molly. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  the  boy  made  his 
way  to  the  deck,  then  sank  down  faint 
and  bleeding.  A  bullet  had  entered  his 
side ;  yet  he  had  been  so  ready  for  the 
stroke  that  it  had  not  thrown  him  off  his 
guard.  Although  weak  and  giddy,  he 
had  made  his  way  down  his  narrow  path- 
way, and  reported  his  duty  done.  Even 
the  hardy  captain  gave  a  pitying  glance 
at  the  brave  boy  as  he  was  borne  below 
by  the  sailors.  Yet  this  was  no  time  for 
such  thoughts  in  the  mind  of  Captain 
Knox.  The  reinforcement  from  the  Mol- 
ly were  on  the  deck  of  the  East  India- 
man.  He  could  hear  the  hearty  cheer  of 
Derry  Duck  as  he  placed  himself  at  their 


150  THE    BOY    PATRIOT. 

head,  and  rushed  upon  the  brave  Brit- 
ons. 

Derry's  impetuous  charge  was  too  much 
for  the  soldiers,  many  of  them  enfeebled 
by  the  climate  of  India,  and  going  home 
to  recruit  in  their  native  breezes.  Over 
the  deck  swept  Derry  and  his  band  like 
a  fierce  hurricane,  which  naught  can  stay 
or  withstand.  A  shout  of  victory  went 
up  from  the  Molly,  a  shout  which  Der- 
ry's excited  men  sent  back  over  the 
water  in  a  deafening  reply.  The  East 
Indiaman  was  won ;  her  crew  were  pris- 
oners ;  her  cargo  the  prize  of  the  Molly. 

Where  was  Blair  Eobertson  amid  the 
general  triumph  ?  This  was  Derry  Duck's 
first  question,  as  his  returning  footsteps 
again  trod  the  deck  of  the  privateer. 

Alone  in  the  deserted  cabin,  Derry 
found  what  was  more  precious  to  him 
now  than  his  share  in  the  glory  or  the 
spoils  of  the  recent  fight. 


THE    CONFLICT.  ,         151 

The  rough  sailor  asked  no  questions  of 
the  fainting  lad.  Tearing  open  Blair's 
garments,  he  found  at  once  the  wound, 
and  with  ready  skill  and  unwavering 
firmness  his  sharp  knife  did  the  sur- 
geon's duty.  The  bullet  was  forced  out 
by  Derry's  hard  fingers,  and  his  rough 
hands  tied  the  bandage  with  a  touching 
attempt  at  tenderness.  Blair  uttered  no 
murmur.  His  lips  moved  gently,  but 
they  whispered  only  words  befitting  the 
sinner  passing  into  the  presence  of  his 
God. 

Deny  caught  the  low  whisper,  and 
understood  its  meaning.  "I  can't  let 
you  go.  What!  going?  Oh  my  lad!" 
and  Derry  Duck's  hard,  blood-marked 
face  was  suddenly  wet  with  tears. 


152  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WAGES. 

THE  East  Indiaman  was  too  important 
a  prize  to  be  trusted  to  any  other  than 
the  skilful  sailor  and  brave  officer,  Derry 
Duck.  He  was  at  once  ordered  to  pre- 
pare to  take  her  into  an  American  port, 
with  all  due  formalities. 

Derry  7s  sea-chest  contained  more  than 
his  scanty  wardrobe,  his  golden  gains 
during  this  long  cruise  were  garnered 
there.  Yet  he  trusted  it  to  the  hands  of 
unscrupulous  men,  while  his  own  arms 
found  a  more  welcome  burden.  Tender- 
ly as  a  mother  bears  her  sleeping  infant, 
Derry  clasped  a  slender  figure  to  his 
rough  bosom,  and  would  suffer  no  one  to 
give  him  aid  in  his  office  of  love.  There 
was  a  gentle  pulsation  in  the  heart  so 


WAGES.  153 

near  to  his.  There  was  a  growing  warmth 
in  the  form  which  was  so  precious  to  the 
mate  of  the  Molly. 

Blair  was  still  alive,  and  Deny  would 
allow  no  duty  to  interfere  with  the  sa- 
cred privilege  of  caring  for  the  wounded 
youth,  and  bearing  him  home,  living  or 
dead,  to  his  mother. 

On  a  couch  of  Indian  luxury  Derry 
laid  the  prostrate  figure  of  Blair  Robert- 
son, and  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  cabin, 
the  face  of  the  once  hardened  tar  was 
softened  into  womanly  gentleness  as  he 
said,  "God  help  him,  and  bring  him  to, 
sound  and  well." 

The  excessive  faintness  and  exhaus- 
tion of  the  wound  had  indeed  seemed  to 
Blair  like  the  lingering,  reluctant  part- 
ing of  soul  and  body ;  and  he  might  well 
have  adopted  the  words  of  that  hymn, 
honored  by  the  murmured  breathings  of 
many  a  dying  saint: 


154  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

"  What  is  this  absorbs  me  quite, 
Steals  my  senses,  shuts  my  sight, 
Drowns  my  spirit,  draws  my  breath  ? 
Tell  me,  my  soul,  can  this  be  death  ? 
The  world  recedes,  it  disappears  : 
Heaven  opens  on  my  eyes,  my  ears 

With  sounds  seraphic  ring : 
Lend,  lend  your  wings  :  I  mount,  I  fly  ; 
0  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ! 

0  death,  where  is  thy  sting  1" 

The  curtain  which  separates  this  lower 
world  from  the  glories  of  the  unseen 
bliss  above,  had  grown  thin  and  almost 
transparent  to  the  eyes  of  the  Christian 
boy,  thus  brought  to  the  gates  of  death. 
Near,  very  near  to  him  seemed  the  face 
of  the  Saviour  who  had  of  late  been  his 
realized  and  beloved  companion.  It  was 
as  the  mother  bows  down  to  her  suffer- 
ing child,  that  this  glimpse  of  the  dear 
Eedeemer  was  made  so  plain  to  the 
weakened,  prostrate  boy.  He  was  still 
in  the  flesh,  and  to  know  weary  waiting 
and  suffering,  ere  health  should  once 


WAGES.  155 

more  send  the  glad  blood  bounding  along 
his  veins. 

Yet  there  was  work  for  Blair  Robert- 
son on  his  couch  of  pain,  work  to  do  for 
his  heavenly  Master.  Blair  was  not  the 
only  sufferer  on  board  the  prize. 

Often  during  the  homeward  voyage,  a 
settee  was  placed  beside  the  soft  couch 
which  Derry  had  appropriated  to  Blair's 
especial  use.  The  occupant  of  the  settee 
was  a  huge,  muscular,  repulsive  young 
man,  whose  yellow  hair  lay  uncombed 
on  his  pillow,  while  his  pale,  freckle- 
marked  face  was  distorted  with  pain, 
rage,  and  the  torture  of  a  rebellious  spir- 
it, when  sorely  smitten  by  the  hand  of 
God. 

Many  of  Brimstone's  fierce  shipmates 
had  been  hurried  into  eternity  in  the 
midst  of  the  struggle  on  the  deck  of 
the  East  Indiaman.  Blair's  coarse  tor- 
mentor, however,  had  escaped  with  his 


156  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

life,  but  with  one  leg  so  wounded  and 
bruised  that  it  was  promptly  cut  off,  as 
the  only  way  of  preventing  ultimate 
death.  Brimstone  ground  his  teeth  and 
swore  fearful  imprecations  at  each  move- 
ment that  reminded  him  of  his  loss.  It 
was  in  vain  that  Derry  bade  him  be 
quiet,  and  rather  thank  God  that  time 
was  left  him  for  repentance.  In  Brim- 
stone's hardened  heart  there  seemed  no 
resting-place  for  good  seed,  no  soil  pre- 
pared for  the  heavenly  plant. 

His  only  relief  was  in  forgetfulness  of 
his  misfortune,  when  he  was  wiled  from 
thoughts  of  himself  by  one  of  Blair's  stir- 
ring tales  of  adventure,  or  ballads  of  the 
olden  time.  Blair  would  weary  out  his 
little  strength  for  the  benefit  of  his  com- 
panion, and  yet  win  not  one  word  of 
thanks  for  his  kindly  endeavors.  Yet 
he  persevered,  ever  mingling  in  his  sto- 
ries and  songs  whispers  of  the  only  source 


WAGES.  157 

of  comfort  for  the  afflicted,  the  only  balm 
for  the  suffering  soul. 

Brimstone's  wild  and  wicked  life  had 
poisoned  the  very  sources  and  flow  of  his 
life's  blood.  His  was  no  flesh  to  heal, 
like  that  of  a  healthy  child. 

While  Blair  was  daily  making  long 
strides  towards  health,  fierce  pains  and 
burning  inflammation  seized  on  Brim- 
stone's stunted  limb.  Then  no  voice 
could  soothe  him,  no  words  of  comfort 
reach  his  ear.  He  chafed  and  tossed 
upon  his  narrow  couch  like  a  wounded 
beast  of  the  forest,  arid  finally  refused  to 
suffer  any  hand  to  dress  or  touch  the 
afflicted  part. 

Pain  ceased  at  last,  the  end  was  near. 
Death  would  soon  claim  the  loathsome 
body,  and  bring  the  polluted  soul  before 
the  judgment-bar.  Blair  gently  told  the 
sufferer  the  awful  truth,  yet  not  from  the 
lips  of  the  lad  would  he  believe  such  an 


158  THE    BOY    PATRIOT. 

announcement.  It  was  not  until  Berry's 
blunt  confirmation  made  sure  the  fearful 
tidings,  that  the  dying  man  would  be- 
lieve that  he  stood  on  the  brink  of  eter- 
nity. 

We  draw  the  curtain  on  the  horrors 
of  the  scenes  that  followed.  May  it 
never  be  the  reader's  lot  to  hear  the  des- 
perate cries  of  a  ruined  soul  about  to 
meet  its  God. 

The  transgressor  must  eat  of  the  fruit 
of  his  choice,  and  sink  into  the  pit  tow- 
ards which  his  face  has  been  resolutely 
set.  The  wages  of  sin  is  death. 

Yain  were  the  pleadings  of  Blair,  and 
the  rougher  urgency  of  Deny,  calling  on 
the  dying  man  to  lift  his  eyes  to  the 
cross  of  Christ,  trust,  and  be  saved. 

With  a  fearful  howl  of  anguish  the 
condemned  soul  took  its  flight ;  while  his 
companions,  awe-struck,  prayed  God  to 
spare  them  such  a  doom. 


^  WAGES.  159 

On  the  dark  waters  the  body  of  Brim- 
stone was  cast,  to  be  seen  no  more  until 
it  should  rise  at  the  last  day,  we  fear,  to 
the  resurrection  of  damnation. 

Lost  seemed  the  labors  of  Blair  Rob- 
ertson for  the  good  of  his  worthless  ship- 
mate ;  but  no  prayerful  effort  for  the 
holy  cause  is  vain.  Blair  had  other  lis- 
teners than  the  ear  to  which  he  spoke. 
Unconscious  of  all  around  him,  he  had 
but  striven  to  touch  and  uplift  the  soul 
of  the  dying  man.  The  group  of  sailors 
gathered  round  the  departing  wretch 
would  soon  be  scattered  far  and  wide  on 
the  rolling  seas,  thousands  of  miles  from 
the  home  of  Blair  Robertson,  and  the 
solemn  truths  he  had  spoken  might  spring- 
up  in  their  hearts  and  bear  fruit  unto 
eternal  life. 


160  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

HOME. 

A  LIGHT  fall  of  snow  had  clothed  all 
Fairport  in  white,  and  whispered  in  the 
ears  of  lingering  birds  that  they  had  bet- 
ter be  off  for  the  "  sunny  south,"  ere  old 
winter  had  fairly  begun  his  icy  reign. 
Cold  and  dark,  the  waters  of  the  harbor 
lay  encircled  by  the  pure  and  glistening 
land.  Cheerful  wood  fires  were  warm- 
ing many  a  hearth-stone,  while  wives 
and  mothers  thought  of  their  absent  ones 
on  the  sea,  and  hoped  and  prayed  no 
chilling  storm  might  be  rending  their 
sails  and  perilling  the  lives  so  precious 
to  home  and  native  land. 

Mrs.  Eobertson  had  suffered  from  many 
anxious  thoughts  since  the  departure  of 
her  brave  son.  But  hers  was  not  a  timid 


HOME.  161 

or  a  repining  spirit.  She  knew  that  the 
same  eye  watched  over  him  on  sea  as  on 
land ;  and  the  almighty  arm  could  pro- 
tect him  as  well  upon  the  deep  waters, 
as  in  the  shelter  of  his  mother's  fireside. 

Fairport  glasses  had  plainly  seen  the 
British  colors  mounted  by  the  vessel 
which  had  borne  away  the  young  pilot. 
The  mother's  heart  throbbed  as  she  men- 
tally pictured  the  determined  patriotism 
of  her  darling  son.  Not  merely  a  fancy 
and  a  picture  that  scene  remained. 

The  two  privateers  which  had  given 
chase  to  the  dismantled  British  vessel 
had  an  easy  victory,  and  soon  brought 
her  triumphantly  into  Boston  harbor. 
Hal  Hutching's  story  won  him  liberty  at 
once.  The  English  boy  had  no  sooner 
set  foot  on  land,  than  he  turned  his  face 
in  the  direction  of  Fairport.  Way-worn 
and  foot-sore  he  was,  when  he  krfocked 
at  last  at  Mrs.  Kobertson's  door.  Warmth 

Yonne  Patriot.  11 


162  THE    BOY   PATEIOT. 

and  welcome,  love  and  gratitude  awaited 
Mm  within.  It  was  his  privilege  first  to 
tell  the  mother  how  nobly  her  son  had 
borne  himself  in  the  hour  of  trial,  and 

I 

with  what  calmness  he  had  faced  the 
king  of  terrors.  Poor  Hal  by  turns  wept 
and  glowed  with  enthusiasm,  as  he  dwelt 
on  the  praise  of  his  friend,  while  the 
mother's  heart  welled  with  deep  thank- 
fulness at  the  mercy  which  had  so  spared 
and  honored  her  boy. 

Many  and  many  a  time  was  Hal  Hutch- 
ings  forced  to  tell  Over  his  story  to  audi- 
tors of  all  ages  and  conditions.  The 
Fairport  Guard,  formally  assembled,  de- 
manded the  right  of  a  relation  especially 
for  them.  Every  young  heart  beat  high, 
and  every  eye  flashed  with  kindling  pride 
in  their  brave  commander,  and  each  one 
resolved  to  be,  like  him,  an  honor  to  his 
home  and  country.  Like  Lycurgus,  their 
leader  had  given  his  laws,  then  left  his 


HOUE.  163 

followers  to  be  faithful  until  his  re  tarn. 
Anew  they  pledged  themselves  to  keep 
their  pure  code,  and  strive  to  be  a  body 
which  Blair  Robertson  the  patriot  would 
not  be  ashamed  to  command. 

Hal  Hutchings  meekly  bore  the  re- 
flected honors  that  were  thrust  upon  him, 
and  well  understood  that  it  was  his  con- 
nection with  the  absent  Fairport  boy 
which  made  him  such  an  object  of  inter- 
est. Hal  however  did  not  object  to  the 
golden  gains  which  resulted  from  his  new 
position.  Everybody  was  ready  to  give 
him  "a  job"  now,  and  his  old  clothes 
were  soon  exchanged  for  new  ones, 
bought  with  his  own  money  and  adapted 
to  his  own  taste. 

Not  a  day  passed  that  did  not  see  Hal 
Hutchings  at  Mrs.  Robertson's  door,  to 
lend  his  strong  arm  and  willing  feet  to 
do  for  her  some  little  kindness,  a  true 
labor  of  love.  When  the  Sabbath  was 


164  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

wearing  away,  Hal  might  be  seen  mov- 
ing his  coarse  finger  slowly  along  the  sa- 
cred page,  reading  holy  words,  to  which 
Mrs.  Robertson  from  time  to  time  added 
her  voice  of  explanation  or  gentle  per- 
suasive counsel. 

So  the  chilling  weeks  of  autumn  passed 
at  Fairport,  and  now  the  first  snow  was 
ushering  in  November's  dreary  rule/  A 
strong  landward  breeze  was  rolling  the 
waves  one  after  another  as  in  a  merry 
chase  towards  the  shore,  while  the  Fair- 
port  Guard  were  gathered  on  the  wharf, 
valiantly,  fighting  a  battle  with  snowballs. 
The  appearance  of  a  ship  entering  the 
harbor  soon  called  the  attention  of  the 
combatants  away  from  the  "charge,  ral- 
ly, and  charge  again,"  in  which  they  had 
just  been  engaged.  Men  muffled  in  great- 
coats came  out  of  the  neighboring  stores 
and  offices,  and  shivered  in  the  cold  wind 
as  they  bent  their  eyes  on  the  stranger 


HOME.  165 

ship,  for  so  at  once  they  pronounced 
her. 

"British  build  and  rigging,  but  the 
right  colors  flying.  She  knows  the  chan- 
nel. See,  she  makes  it  as  well  as  if  she 
had  Joe  Robertson  himself  on  board. 
There  now,  do  n't  she  come  up  the  har- 
bor as  if  this  was  her  home,  and  she 
knew  just  where  she  was  going  to  cast 
anchor?" 

Remarks  like  these  dropped  from  the 
lips  of  the  eager  watchers : 

"I  should  n't  wonder  if  it  was  our  cap- 
tain coming  from  foreign  parts,"  said  a 
small  member  of  the  Fairport  Guard. 
''He's  took  that  ship  as  likely  as  not, 
and  is  coming  home  in  her." 

"Pshaw,  child,"  burst  from  several 
listeners. 

"  I  wish  we  did  know  where  that  boy 
is,"  said  another  speaker.  "He  ?s  a  cred- 
it to  this  place,  that 's  certain." 


166  THE    BOY   PATKIOT. 

"He's  an  honor  to  America,"  said  Hal 
Hutchings,  who  was  now  allowed  to  give 
his  views  on  all  occasions.  Hal's  face 
was  bent  forward,  and  his  eye  was  fixed 
on  a  slender  lad  who  was  anxiously  look- 
ing towards  the  shore.  "  It 's  him,  it 's 
him;  it's  Blair,  I  tell  you.  It's  him," 
shouted  Hal,  throwing  his  cap  in  the  air, 
and  giving  three  leaps  that  would  have 
astounded  a  catamount. 

Hal  Hutchings  fought  his  way  to  the 
privilege  of  being  the  first  to  grasp  Blair's 
hand,  as  he  stepped  ashore  ;"  then  there 
was  a  perfect  rush  of  hands  and  a  cheer 
from  young  and  old  that  Derry  Duck 
said  was  the  pleasantest  music  that  ever 
he  heard. 

"  Where  is  she  ?  Where  's  my  moth- 
er, Hal  ?"  said  Blair  as  soon  as  he  could 
speak. 

"  Hearty,  hearty,  and  just  like  an  an- 
gel as  she  always  was,"  said  Hal  vocifer- 


HOME.  16T 

ously.  The  boy's  joy  seemed  to  have 
made  him  almost  beside  himself.  "She 
do  n;t  know  you  're  here,  she  do  n't.  I  '11 
be  off  to  tell  her." 

"No,  Hal,  no.  I  '11  be  there  in  a  min- 
ute myself,"  said  Blair,  moving  off  at  a 
marvellous  pace  for  a  boy  who  had  been 
wounded  so  lately. 

The  Fairport  Guard  fell  into  rank  and 
followed  their  commander,  while  a  mot- 
ly  crowd  brought  up  the  rear. 

Blair  stood  on  the  familiar  door-step. 
He  laid  his  hand  on  the  lock,  and  paused 
for  a  second  to  calm  his  swelling  emo- 
tions, in  which  gratitude  to  God  was 
even  stronger  than  the  deep  love  for  his 
mother. 

Quietly  sat  Mrs.  Robertson,  plying  the 
needle  at  her  fireside,  when  the  door 
gently  opened,  and  her  son  stood  before 
her. 

That  was  a  moment  of  joy  too  deep 


168  THE    BOY    PATRIOT. 

for  description.  While  the  mother  and 
son  were  clasped  in  a  long  embrace,  Hal 
could  not  help  having  his  share  of  the 
interview  by  crying  out,  "He's  come 
home!  Be  n't  it  splendid?  He's  come! 
Dear,  dear,  I  shall  burst." 

"  You  dear  good  fellow,"  said  Blair, 
throwing  his  arm  over  Hal's  shoulder, 
"you've  been  a  comfort  to  my  mother, 
I  know." 

"That  he  has,"  said  Mrs.  Robertson. 
"It  was  he  who  told  me  how  your  no- 
ble courage  saved  your  native  town  and 
the  very  home  of  your  mother  from  the 
flames.  I  thank  God  for  such  a  son." 

"Then  I  did  what  you  would  have 
wished,  mother.  Your  praise  is  my  pre- 
cious reward,"  said  Blair  with  affection- 
ate simplicity. 

"God  has  sustained  you  in  the  path 
of  duty,  and  brought  you  in  safety  to 
your  home  and  your  mother.  Let  us 


HOME.  169 

thank  him  for  all  his  mercies,  my  son. 
Hal  is  no  stranger  to  prayer  now;  he 
will  gladly  join  us." 

It  was  indeed  the  voice  of  true  thanks- 
giving which  rose  from  those  grateful 
hearts.  He  who  has  contrived  joys  for 
the  meanest  of  his  creatures,  doubtless 
takes  a  pure  pleasure  in  the  happiness 
which  he  gives  to  his  chosen  ones  even 
here ;  and  rejoices  to  know  that  it  is  but 
the  foreshadowing  of  that  eternal  delight 
in  store  for  them  where  parting  shall  be 
no  more. 


170  THE    BOY   PATKIOT. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SACKED  JOY. 

SWEETLY  the  Sabbath  bells  sounded  in 
the  ear  of  Blair  Robertson.  What  a  joy 
it  was  to  be  once  more  at  home,  once 
more  in  his  native  land.  How  delight- 
ful the  thought  that  prayer  had  already 
gone  up  from  many  family  altars,  and 
already  Christ's  little  ones  were  gather- 
ing to  be  taught  of  him  and  sing  his 
praise.  To  dwell  among  the  ungodly  is 
indeed  a  bitter  trial.  The  society  of  the 
unprincipled  had  been  to  Blair  like  a 
dark  cloud  overshadowing  his  pathway ; 
and  it  was  a  new  delight  to  him  to  be 
once  more  among  the  people  of  God. 
What  a  blessing  it  seemed  to  him  to  be 
a  dweller  in  the  land  of  light  and  liberty, 
where  the  free  worshippers  might  pray 


SACKED   JOY.  171 

and  praise  without  let  or  hinderance  from 
ungodly  men. 

Full  of  such  glad  thoughts,  he  walked 
towards  the  church  so  endeared  to  him 
by  many  hallowed  "  associations.  His 
mother  was  at  his  side,  and  his  kind 
townsmen  on  every  hand  were  giving 
him  their  cordial  greeting,  while  the  lit- 
tle children  looked  at  him  with  curious 
wonder,  as  the  brave  boy  whom  even 
their  fathers  "delighted  to  honor." 

Once  in  the  house  of  God,  all  other 
thoughts  were  hushed  in  the  mind  of 
Blair,  by  the  remembrance  of  the  pres- 
ence into  which  he  was  now  ushered. 
It  was  a  joy  to  him  to  join  in  heartfelt 
prayer,  and  praise  with  so  many  true 
children  of  God,  and  to  stand  among  his 
brethren  who  like  him  could  say  from 
the  heart,  "I  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ." 

A  deep;  strong  voice  near  him  made 


172  THE    BOY    PATKIOT. 

the  young  worshipper  aware  of  the  pres- 
ence of  Derry  Duck  in  the  solemn  assem- 
bly, joining  with  his  whole  heart  in  the 
hymn  of  praise.  Ah,  men  might  heap 
honor  upon  the  young  patriot,  and  ap- 
plaud his  courage  in  the  hour  of  danger, 
and  welcome  was  their  cordial  tribute ; 
but  their  loudest  acclamations  had  not 
power  to  wake  in  the  soul  of  Blair  Kob- 
ertson  such  deep,  grateful  joy  as  the« 
sight  of  that  ransomed  sailor,  brought 
home  to  the  Father's  house. 

Every  word  of  the  service  had  its 
meaning  to  Derry  Duck,  lie  confessed 
anew  the  sins  of  his  burdened  heart,  and 
accepted  once  more  the  free  forgiveness 
found  in  Christ  Jesus.  He  called  on 
God  as  his  Father,  and  seemed  to  be 
professing  before  men  and  angels  the 
faith  for  which  he  was  willing  to  die. 

The  clergyman  gave  forth  the  simple 
notice,  UA  person  desires  to  return 


SACRED  JOT.  173 

thanks  for  a  safe  return  from  sea."  All 
eyes  were  suddenly  bent  upon  Blair  with 
loving  pride.  Very  deep  and  true  was 
the  thanksgiving  of  the  Fairport  congre- 
gation for  the  return  of  their  brave  de- 
liverer j  but  who  shall  tell  what  passed 
in  the  mother's  heart,  or  in  that  of  her 
rejoicing  son? 


174  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

CHAPTER   XXI. 

CONCLUSION. 

IT  was  in  vain  that  Blair  tried  to  per- 
suade Deny  Duck  to  see  his  mother,  and 
accept  her  thanks  for  his  kindness  to  her 
wounded  boy.  Derry  declared  that  he 
would  hear  no  thanks,  the  odds  were  all 
on  the  other  side.  And  as  for  sitting 
down  in  a  Christian  woman's  parlor,  and 
making  himself  easy  there,  he  wasn't 
fit  for  that.  A  forgiven  sinner  he  be- 
lieved he  was,  and  could  bow  in  the 
house  of  God  with  his  fellow-men;  but 
he  was  a  beginner  in  the  ways  of  godli- 
ness, too  much  tainted  with  his  misera- 
ble past  to  be  right  company  for  those 
who  had  never  gone  so  far  astray.  Be- 
sides, he  pleaded,"  he  had  his  little  flower 
to  see,  in  her  own  little  nook.  It  would 
be  a  shame  to  him  to  set  his  foot  on  any 


CONCLUSION.  175 

other  threshold  before  he  had  spoken  to 
her.  To  her  his  first  spare  hours  be- 
longed. 

Berry  returned  from  his  visit  to  his 
child  with  his  heart  more  than  ever  full 
of  love  to  his  darling.  She  had  received 
his  letter,  and  rejoiced  over  it  with  great 
joy,  declaring  that  not  a  treasure  she 
possessed  was  so  precious.  Deny  had 
allowed  himself  but  the  usual  short  in- 
terview, ever  trembling  lest  he  should 
mar  her  delight  in  her  father  by  some 
knowledge  of  the  wild  life  he  had  led. 
Yet,  when  he  laid  his  hand  on  her  head 
at  parting,  he  could  not  resist  speaking 
the  fervent  "God  bless  you,  darling," 
which  stirred  at  his  heart. 

She  had  clasped  and  kissed  his  hand 
with  a  sudden  gladness,  as  if  such  words 
from  him  were  both  a  joy  and  a  surprise. 
He  waited  for  no  questions,  but  hurried 
away. 


176  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

"When  the  war  is  over,  you  will  come 
home  and  settle  down  with  your  little 
housekeeper,  and  let  her  take  care  of 
you.  How  glad  that  will  make  her," 
said  Blair  persuasively. 

"I  shall  never  be  fit  company  for  her," 
said  Derry  firmly;  "I  know  it,  my  boy. 
True,  I  'm  a  changed  man.  I  trust  I  'm 
forgiven  for  the  sake  of  the  Crucified. 
But  1 7ve  a  pit  within  that  needs  purging 
thrice  over.  A  man  like  me  is  not  made 
into  a  saint  in  a  minute,  though  he  may 
read  his  pardon  clear.  '  Following  hard 
after,'  shall  be  my  motto;  'following  on 
to  know  the  Lord.'  I  'm  not  the  one  to 
sit  down  at  the  chimney-side  with  a  crea- 
ture like  her.  No,  Blair,  I  tell  you  no. 
Look  here,  my  boy.  Here  ?s  my  path  of 
duty.  I  Ve  a  God  to  glorify,  I  Ve  a  coun- 
try to  serve.  Eough  sailors  wont  think 
of  my  ways  as  she  would.  If  I  'm  like  a 
rock  in  what  I  know  is  right,  and  God 


CONCLUSION.  177 

will  help  me,  I  can  do  'em  good.  I  can 
set  up  the  right  banner  among  'em.  I 
can  make  the  forecastle  praise  the  great 
and  holy  name.  It  is  for  this  I  mean  to 
work.  It  is  for  this  I  mean  to  be  a  sail- 
or now.  There 's  not  a  port  I  've  ever 
set  foot  in,  but  I  Ve  shamed  a  Christian 
land  there.  I  mean  to  put  in  to  every 
port  where  I  've  showed  my  face,  and  let 
them  see  I've  changed  my  colors.  Where 
I  've  done  evil,  there  I  mean  to  try  to  do 
good.  I  can't  wipe  out  bygones.  They 
are  written  in  the  book  up  there.  But 
there 's  One  in  white  robes  will  stand 
for  me  before  his  Father's  throne.  I  '11 
work  for  Him  while  there  's  life  in  me ; 
and  when  I  die,  I  hope  it  will  be  giving 
praise  and  glory  to  his  name.  I  want 
to  do  my  country  credit  too.  It's  no 
shining  thing,  to  get  in  the  papers,  that  I 
expect  to  do ;  but  just  a  patient  serving 
God,  that  brings  honor  to  the  land  where 

Young  Patriot.  12 


178  THE   BOY   PATRIOT. 

a, man  was  born.  You  will  pray  for  me, 
I  know,  when  I  'in  off  on  the  water ;  and 
if  I  die — your  mother  knows  the  name — 
she  '11.  go  to  my  little  darling,  and  tell  her 
how  her  father  loved  her,  and  hopes  to 
live  with  her  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
I  shall  be  fit  to  sit  down  with  her  at 
that  marriage-feast.  I  shall  have  on  the 
'white  robes,'  and  poor  Derry  Duck 
will  have  a  '  new  name,'  by  which  the 
angels  will  call  him,  and  his  little  dar- 
ling will  not  blush  to  hear  it.  I  shall 
live  with  her  there."  Derry  dashed  the 
tears  from  .his  eyes  as  he  spoke,  but  he 
firmly  repeated,  "Here,  I  must  labor 
alone,  and  struggle  to  grow  like  the  Mas- 
ter. There,  none  shall  lay  any  thing  to 
the  charge  of  God's  elect ;  and  I  and  my 
.pretty  one  will  join  with  her  mother  in 
singing  round  the  throne.  Good-by,  my 
boy.  God  bless  you.  You  have  sent 
out  a  Christian  sailor  to  work  for  him  on 


CONCLUSION.  179 

the  seas.  You  have  sent  out  a  lover  of 
his  country  to  strive  to  do  her  honor  in 
his  closet  on  his  knees,  at  his  duty  in  the 
fight,  and  in  his  hammock  when  they 
drop  him  into  the  deep  sea." 

Derry  wrung  the  hand  of  the  young 
patriot,  and  then  moved  away  with  quick 
uncertain  steps.  A  lonely  man,  yet  not 
alone,  there  was  a  comfort  and  joy  in  the 
rough  sailor's  heart.  His  life  of  labor 
was  to  be  a  glad  voyage  to  a  better 
country,  whose  harbor  lights  would  be 
ever  leading  him  onward,  and  whose 
shining  shore  would  ever  glisten  for  him 
in  the  certain  future  beyond  the  grave. 

The  young  patriot  had  indeed  been 
blessed  in  winning  such  a  devoted  ser- 
vant to  the  Master's  cause,  and  such  a 
Christian  sailor  to  maintain  the  honor  of 
his  native  land. 

There  was  more  such  work  for  Blair 
Eobertson,  and  for  it  he  steadily  labored. 


180  THE    BOY   PATRIOT. 

Peace  came  with  its  illuminations  and 
festivities.  The  sword  was  laid  aside  on 
sea  and  land,  yet  Blair  might  still  be 
serving  the  country  he  so  dearly  loved. 
His  example,  his  fireside  talk,  and  his 
glowing  words  in  the  assemblies  of  his 
people,  might  ever  cast  their  weight  in 
the  right  balance.  The  outcasts  and  the 
immigrant  were  still  to  be  so  trained 
and  ennobled  as  to  make  them  fit  citi- 
zens of  our  free  and  happy  land.  Above 
all,  by  his  prayers  and  his  holy  living, 
he  might  call  down  on  his  home  and 
country  such  a  blessing  as  ever  encom- 
passes the  dwelling  of  him  who  feareth 
the  Lord. 

To  be  such  a  patriot  was  the  aim  of 
Blair  Robertson.  Would  that  there  were 
many  so  to  live  and  labor.  Then  might 
we  be  sure  of  victory  over  all  our  ene- 
mies, and  of  the  abounding  blessings  of 
lasting  peace. 


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